


A Year To Fill An Empty Home

by Turandot (LostOzian)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Character Growth, Confidants (Persona 5) - Freeform, F/M, Seriously this was just a challenge to see if Akira's parents could be written sympathetically, Side story to P5: a small town's day-to-day during the Phantom Thieves' rise, character introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostOzian/pseuds/Turandot
Summary: The officer who came to explain the terms of the probation had a sad smile on his face the whole way through. He seemed like he was trying to be sympathetic at first, telling them about the mandatory school transfer and the probation terms, but when he got to the part about “removing Akira-kun from bad influences,” Chou couldn’t see the smile as anything less than sadistic.“I know you’re facing a lot of pain right now, Kurusu-san,” the officer had said. “But perhaps better parenting would have helped Akira-kun know that he shouldn’t assault people in the street.”---OR, Takeshi and Chou Kurusu aren't bad people. They never stopped loving their son, not for a single second.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 53
Kudos: 243





	1. April

_They took my son from me._

Takeshi walks down the street. His tool bag hangs in his hand. One step in front of the other. Right, left, right, left, right, left. Up to the front door to ring the doorbell. As if nothing had changed. As if nothing was wrong.

_They took my son away and I couldn’t even say goodbye._

A woman opens the door. “Ah, thank goodness you’re here! Please come in.”

He feels his toes nudge his shoes off. He steps inside. It’s an average suburban home facing an average electrical problem. It’s a lot like his own home. His own home where…

_I stood by and watched as they took my son from me._

The woman is making some small talk, but it goes in one ear and out the other. Takeshi feels his head nod a little bit. Chou teases him that he’s a hard man to read, and he uses it to his advantage. When Akira hit middle school and picked up shades of this behavior himself, Chou expanded her teasing. “The men in my life, always so stoic! Too stoic for their own good!” she’d say.

Akira barely said anything as they took him away. Takeshi barely said anything. Chou didn’t say anything because she was crying so much. She did manage to hug him, right before they took him. Should Takeshi have hugged him? To give Akira strength for the year ahead? Would a hug have made a difference?

“Excuse me… are you listening?”

Takeshi blinks. “Sorry, ma’am.”

The woman frowns a little. “You know, if you’re not up to the task today, they should have sent someone else.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sick?”

“No,” Takeshi says. How to explain? “I lost my son recently.”

In an instant, the woman’s ire evaporates. “Oh, no! What happened?!”

“…An accident,” Takeshi says. That’s what Akira had said, before they threw him into that courtroom, that it was an accident and the man fell on his own, and Takeshi didn’t say anything but he trusts Akira, he trusts his son is right even as the world says he’s wrong… “I’ll be fine. I’ll fix the wiring now.”

The woman gives a scoff-laugh. “It’s good to know you were at least paying attention to that part. Let me show you my fuse box.”

_They took my son from me and I just went to work like an ordinary day._

Takeshi can’t shake the feeling that something is deeply _wrong_ about that.

* * *

Chou ran out of tears, but she still feels like crying. What is she supposed to do with herself? Akira didn’t need breakfast that morning. He didn’t go to school. He won’t be home for dinner. He doesn’t need help with his homework. And she can’t even ask if he arrived safely in Tokyo— _Tokyo! They sent her baby to Tokyo to live with a stranger?!_ —because of the non-contact order.

The officer who came to explain the terms of the probation had a sad smile on his face the whole way through. He seemed like he was trying to be sympathetic at first, telling them about the mandatory school transfer and the probation terms, but when he got to the part about “removing Akira-kun from bad influences,” Chou couldn’t see the smile as anything less than sadistic.

“I know you’re facing a lot of pain right now, Kurusu-san,” the officer had said. “But perhaps better parenting would have helped Akira-kun know that he shouldn’t assault people in the street.”

Chou slams her fist down on the couch cushion next to her. It doesn’t help, but she’s out of tears and she has to do something else to take the feelings inside of her and put them outside. The house is so silent, all she has are memories of that damned officer, telling her that everything terrible happening to Akira was her own fault.

_Maybe it is._

Not that Akira shouldn’t have spoken up. Chou knows that justice is complicated, but she trusts her son. Akira only had a moment to share details, and Chou trusts from the bottom of her heart that Akira told the truth and did the right thing. But she should have fought harder for him. She should have hired an attorney (with what money?) She should have had a job herself, to make sure they had money for an attorney (and pay someone else to raise her son?)

She should have done… something.

When Takeshi comes home, Chou’s tears have replenished. She wraps herself in his arms and cries until she’s empty again. Takeshi holds her the whole time, silent, but solid as a foundation.

* * *

“Shame about your son, turning out to be a delinquent,” Sota says while leaning back in his office chair.

Sota Electricians has a very small office, which holds paperwork, some spare materials, and three desks. Most everything Takeshi needs for his job fits in his tool bag, and he only has to come to the office to drop off work orders and pick up new ones. Takeshi knew his boss would have something to say about Akira’s arrest, and he was dreading it.

“Were you too lenient with him or something?”

Takeshi knows the real answer and can’t say it. He goes with a non-committal, “Maybe.”

“Feh. No ‘maybe’ about it. Kids who know their place don’t raise their hands to adults,” Sota strokes his chin a little. “You know, I think we’re going to win that bid for the new apartments they’re putting up. Twenty new units!”

“Oh.”

“I’ll put you down for the overtime. Project leader.”

Takeshi looks up. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve got time in your schedule, now that the government will be teaching your son some manners.”

It’s like a flash of lightning down his spine, but Takeshi never had a temperament that led to hasty words. He wrangles a harsh reply into something neutral. “I’ll have to ask my wife.”

“What does she have to do with this?”

“She’s very upset about losing our son.”

“So? Buy her some jewelry with your extra pay.”

_They took our son from us and we couldn’t do anything._

Takeshi swallowed, determined to draw at least one line in the sand. “I’ll tell you if I can take the overtime tomorrow.”

“Are you going to cause a problem for me, Kurusu?”

Would his family be in this mess if they had caused _more_ problems, rather than waiting for problems to be caused for them? “Tomorrow morning. I’ll know by then. For now, I’ll be going.”

He closes his folder and walks out the door.

* * *

Chou feels silly, once Takeshi comes home to see what she’s done. For one, she shredded the kitchen calendar to make it, and she had to draw her own sloppy grid for the months of January, February, and March in the new year.

“We can count down the days,” she explains, gesturing at the living room wall. The first few days have been crossed off. It’s April 15th, or three hundred and forty days until Akira’s return. The longer Takeshi stares at the giant wall-calendar and the pitiful number of days crossed off, the more ridiculous Chou feels. “Or… I can take it down. This was a terrible idea.”

“No,” Takeshi says. “I like it.”

Chou smiles, but wipes at her eyes all the same. It feels like everything makes her cry these days. “You’re still too stoic for your own good.”

Takeshi doesn’t say anything, but he hugs her again. Chou takes deep breaths and struggles to pull the tears back.

They’re settled into bed when Takeshi tells her about the overtime and Sota’s not-so-subtle threat that it’s required. Chou thinks about how it already feels like a knife in her heart that she can’t make lunches for Akira anymore. If she couldn’t make dinners for Takeshi, if she spent even more time alone…

But she looks at her husband’s face, and the clear gray eyes he gave to their son, and she takes a deep breath. “Akira is working hard in Tokyo. So we should work hard here, too.”

Takeshi smirks. “I’ll buy you jewelry. To make up for leaving you alone.”

Chou laughs at that. “What good is jewelry? And if I wanted any, I’d get a job myself!”

When the laughter fades, that doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

* * *

Takeshi’s assistant on the construction site is named Fukuyama. He’s Takeshi’s junior at Sota Electricians with a ten-year gap in their experience levels, and they’ve never worked closely together until now. There’s a stiffness in the way Fukuyama bows to him that Takeshi doesn’t quite know what to do with.

“I look forward to working with you,” Fukuyama says.

“…Likewise.”

There’s a lot of meetings with the builder for the first few days, revising blueprints and code requirements. Fukuyama keeps speaking up when he doesn’t need to and shooting Takeshi harsh glances whenever he just nods silently. The builders look confused.

_It’s fine if we do the work, right?_

Except it doesn’t end there. Fukuyama keeps involving himself. He shows up early to make sure Takeshi’s orders, arranged the night before, are issued with his mouth. He doesn’t tell Takeshi when the builders want to hold meetings. He makes edits to the supplies orders based on his own judgment.

Takeshi tries to sit him down. “I see that you’re eager, but the project has one leader. I need you to assist me.”

Fukuyama’s face sets in a frown. No, not a frown. A sneer. “I’d be more inclined to follow your leadership if you were a real _leader_. You know that you’re in charge based on seniority alone, right?”

He’s caught off guard by the blatant insubordination. “…I do know. Why is that a problem?”

“The _problem_ is that I’m more driven and talented than you are, but I have to take orders from you just because you’re older.” Takeshi sees the hunger in Fukuyama’s eyes and threat in his teeth.

After Sota bullied Takeshi into taking this project in the first place, part of him wants to say, _Fine, take it._ Roll over and let Fukuyama take the power he wants. Watch him struggle and then crash and burn, because there’s no way someone as impulsive as Fukuyama can lead a complicated installation like this without getting someone hurt.

_They took my son from me. Am I going to let someone take my job, too?_

“It’s not just because I’m older,” Takeshi tells him. “You’ll learn more about leadership by listening to me than undermining me.”

Fukuyama scoffs at that. “Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When he leaves, Takeshi takes a deep breath. That didn’t go well. He doesn’t know what he could have done to make it go any better.

* * *

There’s not much part-time work to be had. Chou has almost no relevant experience in any field, since she’s been a housewife for most of her adult life. Most businesses that want help are looking for students anyway. Walking away from the grocery store, which is not in need of another clerk, Chou's age weighs on her so heavily every step feels like it's dragging an anchor.

“Kurusu-san, is that you?”

It’s a shrill voice that cuts through Chou’s sorrow, and she scrunches her eyes shut for a moment. _Just when it couldn’t get any worse._ But she straightens up and turns around to greet her with a forced smile: “Morita-san, it’s very nice to see you!”

Morita wears pearls in her ears, and has two strings of them in a necklace. It’s ostentatious, and even before Chou’s life changed— _three hundred sixteen days until Akira comes home_ —she never got along with the other woman, no matter how many times their paths were forced to cross. Their town only had one cram school worth anything, and Morita-san managed enrollment… and any other part she felt she could more effectively lead.

“I’m so glad I saw you! It’s been ages, since Akira-kun hasn’t attended cram school.” There’s a glint in Morita’s eyes that burns. “I feel simply _terrible_. Almost responsible!”

“…Responsible?” Chou repeated back, dismayed.

“Well, yes! Wasn’t Akira-kun walking home from cram school before he assaulted that poor bystander? I just can’t recall if his mood was fouler than usual. Perhaps if I had noticed, or held him a bit later, then his victim would have been alright!”

Too many thoughts crowd Chou’s head. Fouler than _usual_? Like Akira was even capable of foul moods!? And Morita cared more for the false victim than for the teenager dragged away from home and family?! Chou knew Akira was simply an average student. His curiosity about every subject meant that he rarely focused long enough to master material. Morita sent him home with disgusting letters too, charting his lack of academic improvement and insisting that a special tutelage course or more hours at her establishment would surely improve Chou’s dreadfully mediocre son.

_She’s sadistic._

Chou takes a deep breath. “Akira told us that he was protecting a woman.”

Morita hums, then clicks her tongue. “And what if he was? He still assaulted someone, and vigilantes are the enemy of an orderly society. Maybe Akira-kun fancied himself a hero since he obviously would never amount to anything else.”

She wants to keep fighting, desperately, but her eyes swim with tears and her throat feels tight. “I’m very sorry, but I need to hurry home. Please excuse me.”

Morita smiles. She must have had fun twisting the knife in Chou’s heart. “We must catch up soon, Kurusu-san.”


	2. May

As the days bleed into May, managing Fukuyama’s antics take up more and more of Takeshi’s time. He feels like a fool, trying to head off Fukuyama’s blustering with quick and thoughtless comments of his own, exploiting empty words just so he can still look like he’s in charge. They don’t usually disagree about the right course of action, just about who should be giving the orders. Takeshi even starts to stay extra late with one of the builders to review future decisions, just to make sure they still understand that Takeshi is in charge of the project, no matter what Fukuyama does.

It’s nearly ten in the evening when Takeshi finally turns onto his street. He hopes Chou isn’t staying up for him. She’s mentioned taking naps during the day, since hunting for a job of her own isn’t as easy as she had thought. She missed celebrating the three-hundred day mark for Akira’s return, which she had said she wanted to commemorate. He fears that Chou feels trapped by her circumstances, and there’s nothing he can do but work and wait.

They should probably set a savings goal for this year. A college fund? Would any worthwhile college take Akira with his criminal record?

A familiar young girl is standing under the street lamp ahead of him. She has shoulder-length hair with a purple headband, and she wears a middle school uniform. She watches Takeshi draw close, but doesn’t say anything.

“Hana-chan, you should go home,” he tells her. Her parents live two houses down and across the street, and while she was too young to be Akira’s playmate growing up, Takeshi can’t help feeling protective.

“Sure,” Hana responds, but she doesn’t move.

“…Now,” Takeshi orders, but after all day managing his assistant like a child, he can’t muster any energy in it.

Hana just smirks at him. “Or what? You’ll tell my parents?”

“Yes.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t scare me,” Hana says. Just what Takeshi needs, more disrespectful youngsters. He’s not even mad about it, just exhausted. After a moment, she adds, “Sorry about Akira-kun.”

Takeshi hesitates. It’s the first time he’s heard someone express sympathy without sounding like a hissing snake. “Thank you.”

She looks away, clearly deeming the conversation over, but Takeshi feels there’s something more to say. He always hates speaking up for no reason, but so far, only speaking when there’s no other option hasn’t done him much good. Something has to change. “Just… stay safe. Please.”

Hana narrows her eyes at him. “Why do you care?”

“Because someone has to.”

Now her eyes roll. “No one _has_ to care.”

“…Then, because someone should.”

She steps away from the streetlight. “Ugh. If you’re going to keep being such a weirdo about this, I’ll just go. Happy?”

He nods, but isn’t sure he’s actually happy. Maybe he just bullied her, too. He’ll just have to wait and see if she stays mad at him.

* * *

Chou hunts for a job fitfully, never talking to more than three businesses in a day, and spending the rest of her time in a depressed spiral, barely moving from bed to the couch and letting bad daytime TV play in the background. The news is full of vapid gossip mixed with fear-mongering. Apparently there’s a rash of madness spreading in Shibuya like a terrible flu. The details are too murky to take up much time, but the story is too sensational to ignore either.

_Please, let Akira be safe…_

She finally gets out of the house again and tries the last two stores she can think of. She leaves the electronics store almost the moment she enters. There’s no way she’ll survive that. The other store is a bakery, the storefront barely big enough for three customers, and an elderly woman sits on a stool behind the register.

“Welcome,” the woman greets. “What can I get for you?”

Chou looks at the pastries on display. They look delicious and well-made. She thinks it might brighten Takeshi’s day if she tucked one in his lunch. She wonders how many she’d need to eat for her days to get bright again. “Um… Sorry, I…”

“Are you just trying to cool down? That’s fine, but there’s only hotter weather to come.”

“I—are you—do you need a part-timer?”

The woman blinks at Chou. “Your daughter?”

“N-No. Me. I need something to do during the day.” Chou hates that she stuttered, she’s a grown woman, but she can’t control her voice. She probably looks ridiculous. Maybe the shop owner thinks Chou is having a psycho-down or whatever they were calling it in Tokyo.

After a moment, the woman’s expression seems to soften. “Well… how much are you hoping to make?”

“Make?”

The woman gestures at her largely empty shop. “I don’t have enough customers to afford a part-timer. But… I could use help. If you can work for free, I can take you on. Besides, you just need this as a hobby, right?”

The offer surprises Chou so much that she hesitates. She hadn’t considered working for free. Isn’t that kind of degrading? Takeshi never had much ambition in his career, but he provided for Chou and Akira by knowing his value as an electrician and making sure his salary matched. But Takeshi is working overtime, and the callous truth is that the Kurusu household’s expenses are lower without Akira around.

Chou just can’t spend any more time at home, staring at the calendar and waiting for days to pass.

“You're right. I'll do it,” she decided. “What should I do first?”

The woman smiled. “Wash your hands. And call me Sachiko-san.”

* * *

Sota is deeply unimpressed when Takeshi tells him about Fukuyama’s behavior.

“Listen, so long as the client isn’t complaining, it’s your job to put your foot down,” Sota tells him. “I’m not interested in your drama.”

Takeshi knows there’s no use in protesting, so he asks a different question. “Is Fukuyama qualified to lead the project?”

“If he was, I would have given it to him. You’re the best choice for now. But as a manager, I have to admire his guts.”

His ‘guts’ are more like treachery, in Takeshi’s experience. “Can you tell him that?”

“I want to be frank with you, Kurusu,” Sota says, as if he’s ever been anything but frank in Takeshi’s nineteen-year career. “Your leadership is completely tepid. You’re very reliable, but when it comes to your approach to work? You’re just a cog of the strong.”

The flash-of-lightning feeling happens again, and Takeshi has an impulse to scream something at his boss: _No_ or _You’re wrong_ or _Shut up_. But once again, he doesn’t say those things. He settles on, “Is that so?”

“Now, don’t get it wrong! _Someone_ has to be the cog! Machines need cogs to run properly.” Sota says, like that makes his insult any better. “But you’ve always done what’s asked of you. Nothing more, nothing less. The only value you have as a leader is your experience. Fukuyama can tell.”

“…I see,” Takeshi answers. Chou always calls him too stoic for his own good, but now is the perfect time for a face of stone. “Thank you for your advice.”

Sota lets him go, and the entire way home, Takeshi feels nearly two decades of missed opportunities and failure weighing on him. Is this really the man he’s become? A miserable cog of a person who never does anything but what people tell him? Was that why he let them take Akira away?

He passes Hana under her usual street corner. Nearly on reflex, he tells her, “Stay safe.”

“Got it,” she answers, not even looking up from her smartphone. It’s a routine to them now. In a way, Takeshi would be more worried if he didn’t see her standing there. _But even if something happened, what would someone like me be able to do about it?_

When he opens the door, Chou is waiting for him, and she’s smiling. He hasn’t seen her smile like that since before Akira’s arrest. She tells him about the the Red Ribbon Bakery, about her new boss Sachiko, about all of the eggs she cracked and the butter she cut and the flour she weighed for tomorrow’s cakes.

She has hope for the first time in months. Takeshi can’t bear to tell her about the conversation with Sota.

“I’m happy for you,” he tells her. He’s smiling a little bit, but Chou giggles and pokes the corners of his mouth to make the smile wider.

“Too stoic!” she teases, and that makes him laugh along with her.

* * *

Working at Red Ribbon is harder than Chou expected. There’s a lot of standing, lifting, and moving heavy trays in and out of ovens. It’s obvious why Sachiko wants a part-timer. Her aging body must be having trouble keeping up. Still, Sachiko holds Chou back from anything complicated, even when Sachiko obviously needs help. She swats away Chou’s offers, sometimes actually striking her hands. “Not until you know what you’re doing!”

Chou figures Sachiko is in the right. She can cook well enough to feed her family, but baked treats had always been beyond her. She goes home exhausted on the days she worked at Red Ribbon, to the point of falling asleep on the couch before Takeshi gets home. She regrets that her stamina is so low, but she supposes Sachiko gets tired too, running a bakery by herself.

“Sachiko-san, do you have plans to retire?” Chou asks. Her frizzy hair, trapped under a hairnet, sticks to her forehead. Her fingers ache and her arms burn. There’s an actual burn on her wrist too, and it stings. Sachiko looks proper as an empress, ready to greet customers, but there aren’t any.

“And spend my days cooped up in a house with nothing to do?” Sachiko scoffs. “You know how terrible that is, or else you wouldn’t be here working for free.”

Sachiko points to a bowl of egg whites in need of beating. The mixture will be painted onto cookies, so that coconut flakes stick to them. Chou picks up the bowl and whisks while she thinks of another question. “What about your family? You could spend more time with them.”

“If I had family, what would I need you for?”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Chou says, then wishes she hadn’t. There’s more questions in her head, about if Sachiko was truly childless, or if they had just all moved away. She wishes she had the ability to tell Sachiko about her troubles: about Akira in Tokyo, alone and probably scared, and how alone and scared Chou feels. Or maybe, if Sachiko talks about her own troubles, at least Chou will feel less alone.

“You whisk it much more, and it’ll start to become a meringue.”

“Ah—I’m sorry!”


	3. June

Takeshi can tell the instant he rounds the corner and sees Hana under her usual streetlight that she’s had a terrible day. Her usual dark makeup is smudged and she hugs her elbows like she’s trying to fend off a chill hanging in the summer air.

“Stay safe, Hana-chan,” Takeshi tells her like usual, but when she doesn’t say anything back, he stops.

She clears her throat and rubs at her cheek. “Can I have some tea?”

Takeshi glances at his bento’s thermos. Chou had brewed him some tea that morning, but… “Sorry, I drank it.”

“Can’t you make more?”

 _She’s not very honest, is she?_ Takeshi thinks, but the smears in her makeup persuade him. So he nods, and Hana leaves her streetlight to follow him home. Chou has an early morning at Red Ribbon, so she’ll already be asleep. It’s on Takeshi to run the electric kettle and put leaves in water on his own. Of all the madness he’s been expected to handle without showing any weakness, it’s the least of his troubles.

Hana sits on the sofa and glances at Akira’s calendar. It’s June 6th, and two hundred eighty-seven days until his return. She doesn’t say anything as Takeshi gives her a cup of tea, and then leaves her alone in favor of sorting the mail.

“Hey… have you heard of the Phantom Thieves?”

“Are they an idol group?” Takeshi asks.

Hana scowls at that. “No way. They’re way more amazing. They steal people’s hearts.”

Takeshi kind of stares at Hana, trying to process what she just said.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Hana accuses.

“How do they steal hearts?” Takeshi is a little surprised at how easily he plays along, but after so much time on the job with Fukuyama, he’s starting to get used to dealing with unreasonable people. 

“Secret occult methods. But they send a calling card to the target, and it says ‘you will confess your crimes,’ and then they _do_. A sexual predator teacher got a card at the end of April, and a famous artist got one a few days ago, and they were _right_. They both confessed and they’re going to jail.”

It’s the first Takeshi has heard of any of this, but Hana seems excited. Or at least, as excited as an apathetic middle school girl can be. “Sounds like you’re a fan.”

For some reason, that embarrasses Hana, and she sips her tea. Takeshi returns to sorting junk letters, keeping an eye on her so she knows he’s not ignoring her, but giving her space to decide if she wants to talk.

When she does, she says, “Do you wish you could change hearts?”

Takeshi thinks on it. She deserves a sincere response. And when he thinks for a second, the answer is obviously _yes_. He wishes he could change Fukuyama’s heart, and Sota’s heart, and the hearts of the judge and prosecutor who sentenced Akira, and the heart of the man who lied about his assault. “Sometimes,” Takeshi answers.

“Me too.” Hana keeps drinking her tea. There’s more bitterness in her response than Takeshi’s.

“…If you don’t want to go home, you can stay until eleven,” Takeshi tells her. “I can lend you some of my son’s light novels.”

“Light novels are so stupid,” Hana declares. "They're written for kids."

Takeshi thinks that Hana is a kid, but she’d hate him if he said so. “Maybe one of my wife’s books?”

Hana is more amendable to that and chooses a mystery novel that Takeshi forgot they had in the house. The author’s name looks foreign.

* * *

Chou is growing more efficient at the bakery. Sachiko still won’t let her truly _bake_ , but she gave Chou a piping bag of buttercream and a silicone mat and told her to practice. Squeeze out lines, dots, squiggles, flowers, and then scrape it all up and put it back in the bag to keep practicing. Chou feels like she’s getting the hang of it. She’s started writing out the most complex kanji she can remember to test her skills.

She’s actually in a good mood when she hears that shrill voice again: “Excuse me, I’m here for my order!”

 _Morita-san_. Chou knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t help herself. She pokes her head out from the kitchen and sees Morita, pearls and all, picking up a box from Sachiko. Chou tries to be sneaky, but Morita’s gaze locks on her instantly.

“Why, _Kurusu-san_! You’re working here? Is your husband’s job in trouble?” The concern tastes like poison and curdles the gentle vanilla flavor in the shop.

“No, he’s fine,” Chou says. She steps out of the kitchen and tries to stand tall. “I’m working here to pass the time.”

There’s a glint in Morita’s eyes that tells Chou instantly she said the wrong thing. “I suppose this is nice, if there wasn’t anything more worthwhile you could do with your time.”

Sachiko clears her throat. “Would you please settle the remainder of the invoice, ma’am?”

Morita reaches into a purse and retrieves a credit card. “I ordered cookies for my high-achievers,” she apparently feels compelled to explain. “Just to let them know that there are rewards for excellence.”

Chou clenches her hands into fists. “Maybe… there are other ways to be excellent.”

“What other ways could there be?”

“Improvement?”

“Just because a failure decided to be less of a failure, they deserve the same rewards as someone who was always exemplary?” Morita counters. “Forgive me if that sounds like a celebration of mediocrity.”

Sachiko steps between the two and holds Morita’s credit card out to her. “Thank you very much for your patronage. I hope to see you again soon.”

Morita leaves the shop. Chou’s eyes are burning. She always leaves conversations with Morita feeling like scum. _Do we have to endure this forever now? Does Akira have to endure this forever?_

Sachiko touches Chou’s shoulder and steers her back into the kitchen, but she doesn’t put her back to work. She finds a dry cooking rag and the crusts from some brownies that Chou cut earlier in the day.

“Take your time,” Sachiko says.

Chou cries, but the tears dry quickly. _Akira’s working hard to come home. You need to show him how strong you were while he was away._

* * *

Just as Takeshi expected, Fukuyama screws up.

There’s an advertisement from the supplier of their copper wiring: a few yen off per meter, which with the number of meters they need, rolls up to a hefty discount. Takeshi noticed that the gauge was wrong for their job, but Fukuyama didn’t, and Takeshi didn’t catch the manipulated order form in time and didn’t see when the wrong wire arrived on site. Then, the wiring went into the project and, the instant they introduced current to the circuit, the difference in voltages caused a fire.

Thankfully, no one was hurt, but now all the wiring had to be ripped out, re-ordered, and re-installed. The client is furious. So is Sato. To the younger man's credit, Fukuyama acknowledges his mistake. He won’t look Sato in the eye. Her apologizes. He bows. He vows, “This won’t happen again.”

“This shouldn’t have happened in the first place!” Sato rages. “Are you some kind of idiot?! How long have you been working here, and you made a basic mistake like this!?”

_The mistake is his fault, but you don’t need to yell at him._

The longer it goes on, the harder it is to watch. Fukuyama keeps trying to offer Sato his remorse and Sato swats it away so he can berate Fukuyama more. It’s not fair or right. Was Sato like Fukuyama as a young man? Is Fukuyama going to turn out like Sato if this keeps up? There's lightning in his spine again, a scream that he can't let out, no matter how bad this gets...

Takeshi remembers what Hana said about Phantom Thieves. They change people’s hearts. And in that moment, something clicks.

_The only heart I can change is my own._

“Sato-san.”

Sato pauses his red-faced lecture and turns to Takeshi. “What?!”

“If you don’t stop yelling at Fukuyama-kun, I’m going to quit.”

The office goes silent. Takeshi is again grateful for his stoic face because his heart is pounding like a taiko drum. If Sato forces him to stick to his guns, he’ll be leaving Chou destitute. But for the first time, Takeshi feels like he’s standing with his head held high.

“Are you taking responsibility for his mistake?” Sato asks.

“I’ll take responsibility for the next one.”

Fukuyama gawks at Takeshi. It’s a nonsensical gambit from his perspective, because what he wants more than anything is for Takeshi to get fired, and here Takeshi is, saying that Fukuyama only has to make one more mistake to get his supervisor removed from his post.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sato presses.

Takeshi’s heart still races, but this isn’t scary anymore. It’s thrilling. “Fukuyama-kun said this won’t happen again. I trust him.”

There’s even more silence. Sato sits back in his chair. Fukuyama looks like he’s trying to catch Takeshi’s eye, but he won’t look at the other electrician. Having the upper hand is kind of intoxicating, the dizzy alcohol of power mixed with a pure breath of righteousness. Sato can’t punish Fukuyama or he’d lose Takeshi, and there’s no one beneath them who can lead the project. And if Sato punishes Takeshi, he’ll have to put Fukuyama in charge, who just screwed up.

“…Both of you, get out of my office,” Sato says. “Work this out yourselves, and I _better_ not hear of any more trouble on this site.”

Takeshi bows and leaves. Fukuyama follows him and once they're out the door, he hisses, “The fuck do you think you’re doing, Kurusu!?”

He finally smiles. Just a little bit. “I don’t know.”

“You seriously just stuck your neck out for me for no reason?! After everything?!”

Takeshi just bows goodbye and leaves, his feet so light he's almost flying.

* * *

It’s supposed to be a chiffon cake, known for its distinctive lightness and delicacy. Chou knows what Sachiko’s chiffon cakes look like. She sees them all the time on the racks, headed to the glass case to be sold.

Chou’s chiffon cake looks nothing like them. It’s too dark on the outside, too dense, not baked through in the center, and too unstable to coat with any icing.

“What did I do wrong?” Chou asks Sachiko.

Sachiko examines the cake sternly. “Many things, to be sure.”

“…Oh,” Chou says. “You know, that’s rather discouraging for an apprentice to hear.”

“Who said you’re my apprentice?”

Chou kind of flinches. “Right. Sorry. Part-timer…” But as Chou’s responsibilities at the bakery expand, she really thinks she can be forgiven for thinking that she’s an apprentice studying under a master, like in those martial arts movies.

“Do you need to sit down?” Sachiko asks.

“Mn?” Chou blinks at her. “Why would I need to sit down?”

“You’re a sensitive woman. If you need time, there’s no customers right now.”

“Sensitive—oh!” Chou feels her cheeks heat up about it. “No, if you’re talking about the incident with Morita-san, she’s… she’s just very good at getting under my skin. My son used to attend her cram school, before—um, before. And she was always so rude about his mediocre performance. She thinks she’s better than me.”

“Is she?”

Chou already feels too off-kilter to be rattled by Chou’s direct question. Morita, with her pearls and her classroom and her charts of children, ranking them against each other and only lavishing praise upon the cream of her crop… “It doesn’t matter if she is or isn’t. I don’t need her permission to live my life.”

Sachiko smiles at that. It’s not the sweet, grandmotherly smile she uses with customers. It’s just honest. “Go ahead and throw that out. You can try again if you want.”

“…Actually, may I take it home? I’d like to show my husband how much of a mess I made. Then he’ll see me improve.”

“If you ask me, you’ve already improved quite a bit,” Sachiko says. She returns to the front of the bakery before Chou can ask what she means by that.

* * *

Fukuyama insists that he and Takeshi go drinking. Takeshi knows it’s Fukuyama’s attempt to get to the bottom of Takeshi’s gambit, which Takeshi is hesitant to let him do. He barely knows what his gambit is to begin with. But at least Fukuyama pays for the beer.

“Look, I’ll admit that I’ve been changing orders behind your back, to get better deals and materials,” Fukuyama said. “And you kept blocking me, even when my choices are better—”

“Until they weren’t,” Takeshi points out.

“That’s not the point! Now that you have a chance to get rid of me, you want me to stay? You’ll risk your job instead? What are you trying to accomplish here?”

Takeshi drinks. The beer is bitter and yeasty, but familiar. “I can’t explain it.”

“Can you at least _try_?”

Takeshi is terrible with his own feelings. It’s part of why he loves Chou so much, because she is a wellspring of complex feelings that usually mirror what Takeshi is feeling himself. But Takeshi got this far with his gambit. If he’s going to change his own heart, he won’t get anywhere if he just does the same things he always did. He just has no idea what his reasons are going to look like once he says them out loud.

“...I don’t care about my job,” Takeshi confesses. “It provides for my family, but it’s not more than that. You can tell.”

Fukuyama has enough tact to look embarrassed as he nods.

“And I don’t understand your ambition,” Takeshi continues. “I don’t think I need to. But a lot has happened to my family in the last three months. It’s clear… I can’t keep being the man I’ve always been. And you won’t reach your ambitions if you keep acting like everyone around you is your inferior.”

There’s a silence over their table. Fukuyama drinks his beer, and Takeshi thinks he looks kind of unsettled. Eventually, Fukuyama says, “You have a real intense way of speaking, you know that?”

Takeshi just nods. He used to get teased about that. At least when Chou teases, he knows it's out of love.

“So in exchange for helping you to decide what to do with your career, you’ll… what?”

“I’ll let you lead the project.”

“But what if I screw up again?”

“I’ll advise you so you don’t. But the project is yours. This time, we'll learn from each other.”

There’s more silence. Then, Fukuyama’s unsettled expression finally resolves into a smile. “It’s a deal. So we’ll start tomorrow?”

Takeshi raises his glass. Fukuyama clinks it.


	4. July

July 13th marks two hundred and fifty days until Akira’s return. Chou is exhausted from the bakery and Takehsi doesn’t get home until the summer sun has set, but she cooks a delicious dinner and they share it.

“To our son!” Chou cries, with a glass of tea.

“Cheers,” Takeshi agrees, and Chou giggles while they clink glasses and drink.

“I wonder how he’s doing. It’s exam season around now, isn’t it?” Chou thinks aloud. Takeshi nods. “I thought so. I hope he’s studied hard.”

“He always studied when others were studying,” Takeshi says.

Chou knows exactly what he’s talking about: in middle school especially, Akira either brought classmates home to study during midterms or finals, or he stayed out with them. His grades came back on the slightly-above-average end, so Chou didn’t see any point in banning social study sessions. “Well, it was nice when he applied himself in a group, but he rarely liked studying when he was just by himself.”

“He’d read with you,” Takeshi adds.

“Right, we had all those picture books when he was little.”

“No, whenever you were reading. He’d find a book of his own and sit with you.”

Chou’s eyes widen. “You’re counting that?”

“Why not?”

“…Well, I’m just stunned you remembered,” Chou follows. Something in her chest feels tight, but warm at the same time.

“Of course.”

She can’t process the feeling, so she turns it back on Takeshi. “You know, there were all those times he wanted to tinker with you, and you wouldn’t let him!”

“He could have been electrocuted.”

“I know, I know,” Chou sighs. “But… Akira always wanted to be doing what other people were doing. It didn't matter if it was clubs, or jobs, or games. His teachers called him ‘flighty,’ but I never thought he was doing anything half-heartedly. It was something else…”

“He’s a chameleon.”

Chou laughs. “Yes! Changing his colors to match his surroundings! You know, that part of him is probably going to guarantee he succeeds at his parole.”

“How?”

“I bet he’s made friends in Tokyo. Smart, kind, and happy people. The type of people who are going to help him through this.” A smile breaks out on her face. “We don’t have anything to worry about.”

Takeshi smiles with this wife, but a terrible thought occurs to him at the same time. Of course Akira will succeed if he’s trying to blend in with accomplished people. But if he doesn’t find them… for example, if he finds the kind of people who belong in Juvenile Hall…

He sips his tea while Chou starts talking about after-school clubs that Akira might be involved with at his temporary school. It’s not helpful for him to remind his wife that Akira can blend in with the wrong people just as easily as the right ones. She probably already knows.

* * *

Hana spends most of her evenings at the Kurusu residence. Rather than forcing the poor girl to wait on a street corner for Takeshi to come home, he gives her Akira’s spare key so she can let herself in. Chou approves, though she says Hana practically refuses to talk to her, and even once Takeshi is home, she won’t be sociable until Chou leaves the room.

_She’s a weird one…_

“Online, they’re saying that Kaneshiro Junya’s victims were mostly high schoolers,” Hana reports, on a night when she’s feeling chattier. “They were blackmailed against going to the police too. No one would have done anything if the Phantom Thieves hadn’t helped.”

“How do they do it?” Takeshi asks again.

“It’s almost certainly some kind of curse. They can show sinners who they truly are. Like, they show their crimes to their third eye, which cannot see lies.”

“…Huh.”

“Or it’s something like that. I have some internet friends who have more reliable sources than me.”

Takeshi nods at that. He’s usually not comfortable with systems that can’t be broken down into component parts and understood as a working whole. The attitude suits him well as an electrician, but not as someone who can speak to children about their passions. “Hana-chan, would you be a Phantom Thief if you could?”

“Of course! Who wouldn’t?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You’re an adult. You don’t get it.”

 _There’s a lot of things I don’t get…_ “Can you explain it to me?”

“What?”

“Why do the Phantom Thieves inspire you?”

Hana’s face goes a little pink. “Because they’re cool.”

“That’s superficial.”

“It doesn’t have to be deep! It’s just obvious!”

“If it’s obvious, then why don’t I get it?”

Hana groans and raises her book to end their conversation. So much for that. But talking with Hana always leaves Takeshi with the impression that there are new things to discover in the world.

* * *

Finally, Chou’s chiffon cakes are starting to look as delectable as they should. She can bake them herself, and do the intricate decoration after, but Sachiko is still laying down the base frosting. There’s something about Sachiko’s iron-control over what Chou is and isn’t allowed to do the she finds motivating. Maybe it’s something in the way she gives one simple nod and then moves to the next project.

“Will you go back to being a housewife when March comes around?” Sachiko asks.

The Kurusu family couldn’t stop the rumors from getting out, but at least the question is neutral. “I don’t think I will. If my son wants his mother around, I’ll definitely stay home again. But… he’s taking care of himself in Tokyo. He might want to keep his independence.”

“Isn’t independence what got him into this mess?”

“No.” Chou swallows back a lump in her throat that she’s getting better at overcoming. “Akira is innocent.”

Sachiko hums at that. Chou can’t resist scratching an itch on her nose, so she has to dispose of her gloves and put on fresh ones. “You have a lot of faith in him.”

“Of course I do!”

“What if he disappoints you?”

Chou hesitates. “What do you mean?”

Sachiko’s face looks stern. Well, stern-er. “They say that the deepest grief in the world is when a child dies. It’s because the child was supposed to be the one to care for their parents in their old age, and suddenly the future is uncertain.”

Chou can’t stop a nervous laugh from bubbling to the surface, even though this is no laughing matter. “I think we love our children for more reasons than that, don’t we?”

“Nevertheless. Children are vessels of pure hope. What would you do if your son doesn’t live up to what you hoped for him?”

The bakery isn’t silent, even though no one speaks. Fans inside the ovens run full blast and the refrigerators and freezers hum like beehives. Chou has a hard time meeting Sachiko’s eyes, but when she glances at her teacher, it looks like she’s waiting for an answer.

“I don't want to be rude, Sachiko-san… but are you asking this because your own children disappointed you?" Sachiko still doesn’t move, but Chou can feel in her heart that she got it right. “I mean… I felt like Akira had died, when they took him away. But my husband and I had to find a way to keep living. If Akira disappoints me… I will still love him. But I’ll keep living.”

Sachiko finally moves, but she walks past Chou to the order board. “If we have time to chat, we have time to work. Are you ready to fill macarons?”

The abrupt end makes Chou jump. “Oh, y-yes!”

* * *

Takeshi has stopped having late-night meetings with the builders to head off Fukuyama’s subterfuge and started having them with Fukuyama himself. Takeshi's junior has a lot of ideas and strategies about how to complete jobs more cheaply and quickly, while Takeshi’s experience always emphasized correctness and deliberation. No wonder they clashed.

“When was the last time you learned anything new in this industry?” Fukuyama asks.

Takeshi can’t remember, so he goes for a stupid joke. “Did they invent a new kind of electricity?”

“So you can be a smart-ass after all!” Fukuyama smiles a little. “But I can see, you basically have the same approach to every single problem. Groundwork, scaffolding, construction, polish. You don’t innovate, so you don’t learn.”

“Oh.” Takeshi can think of defenses for his behavior, but it’s not like he wants to debate Fukuyama on this. He _asked_ for his junior to tell him about his flaws.

“But, I have to admit, I need to think like you in order to lead a project this large. Your approach keeps all the moving parts from crashing into each other.”

“Thanks.”

“So what to do with your career…” Fukuyama scratched his chin. “Have you considered opening an electrician company of your own?”

There’s a hundred reasons Takeshi didn’t do that a decade ago, but the biggest one is… “I’d be competing with Sato-san.”

“And you think you couldn’t wire circles around that bloated toad?”

Takeshi is kind of bewildered at the idea of opposing Sato… but Sato called him a ‘cog of the strong.’ After spending time with someone like Fukuyama, Takeshi can see that Sato’s power is completely imaginary. What would happen to Sato’s machine if its most reliable cog broke out on his own? Would junior electricians follow Takeshi to a new company? Would customers have more respect for someone who worked for himself?

In spite of Takeshi’s silence, Fukuyama looks satisfied. Maybe showing a little faith in Fukuyama was what it took for him to show faith in Takeshi. “How about I lend you some books of mine? They're about business management.”

“Sure.”

One at a time, Takeshi grows a library: _The Mind of the Strategist_ and _Innovations in the Trades_ and _The Okumura Way_ and _The Green Electrical Revolution_.

That last one is far and ahead the most interesting. Takeshi devours it one methodical page at a time while he hosts Hana in the evenings. More than the other books about profit and management, green energy feels like what prosperity _ought_ to be.

* * *

For the first time in four months, Sachiko’s ingredients order is short by one dozen eggs. Chou has long admired the elder woman's meticulous pantry maintenance skills, but she supposes Sachiko isn’t psychic. It’s a bit of a trek through the summer heat to the grocery store, but it’s no hotter than the bakery itself, so Chou doesn’t mind.

“Why, _Kurusu-san_!”

Chou had been too focused on her errand to notice Morita in the food court of the town’s one department store. She can’t stop the shock on her face as the other woman waves to her. Somehow, she looks pristine in the heat, like a plaster statue. “Ah—hello!”

“It feels like it’s been ages since I saw you! Still working at the bakery?”

“Yes, I am. I’m actually on an errand, so—”

“Well, I wanted to let you know, I missed you at our cram school conference. All of the parents of rising third-years attended to discuss college entrance exams.”

The glint in Morita’s eyes says everything. _She thinks Akira won’t need college entrance exams._ Chou tries to be diplomatic. “Well, I… hope it was helpful for all involved.”

“I was thinking, should I create a remedial program for your son? This interruption to his education can’t be good, but unless he can maintain his mediocrity, his future prospects will be even more dismal than before.”

_How many times are you going to remind me of my pain!?_

“Perhaps, you should let his parole officer know about this problem? The state may sponsor his after-school activities if they think it will stop him from falling down the path of a criminal.”

It’s out of Chou’s mouth before she can stop it: “Stop talking.”

Morita freezes. “What did you just say?”

And now that she's said it, everything else she's wanted to say rushes out of her: like a waterfall, like a scream, like a truth. “Every single time you see me, all you talk about is how terrible my son is! You’re nothing more than a petty bully! And I can’t stand the way you behave at your cram school! I couldn’t stand it when Akira was there, and I can’t stand it now!”

“How _dare_ you—”

But Chou feels like her heart is on fire. Her face is hot, surely blushing and betraying her panic, but she _can’t stop_. “You call yourself an educator!? You’re supposed to help children improve, but instead you pick your favorites and you discard the rest!? I’d rather see Akira be held back a year than attend another minute of your terrible school!”

Morita’s lips are pressed tight, and Chou can tell she’s _livid_. And Chou notices that she’s raised her voice and that people in the courtyard and on the street are staring at her.

That’s when Chou’s courage runs out. She sprints away, buys eggs with hands shaking so badly she nearly drops them, and then takes a detour back to Red Ribbon just to avoid the food court. Then she won’t even look Sachiko in the eye when she places the eggs on the counter and hides between the storage shelves.

“What’s gotten into you?” Sachiko asks with a scolding tone.

“I… may have made an enemy,” Chou answers, still upset at how her voice trembles… but the thrilled fire in her heart doesn’t go away.


	5. August

Takeshi told Hana that she could stay at his house during the day due to summer vacation if she wanted, just to beat the heat. He’s not sure how much she’s taking him up on that offer, but it’s all the more obvious that Hana prefers Takeshi’s company over Chou’s. It baffles him a little that a young girl feels less at ease with bright, loving Chou than she does with stoic, awkward Takeshi.

Besides, they don’t even spend much time talking to each other. Hana reads as many literature novels as she can borrow from the Kurusu bookshelves, and Takeshi finished _The Green Electrical Revolution_ and found more books about alternate energy sources. He even recently ordered a children’s science kit with a solar panel in it and disassembled it completely—even cracking open the black-boxed, child-proof components—to examine how it all fit together. He has no idea how it will make him a better employee, but learning something new about electricity after all these years is… well, electrifying.

Still, Chou had confided to Takeshi about her worries, and Takeshi feels responsible for getting too the bottom of it. “You know, my wife would be happy to talk to you when I’m not here.”

“Doesn’t she think I’m weird?” Hana accuses.

“She wants you to be happy.”

Hana rolls her eyes. “People like her get on my nerves.”

That doesn’t make sense. Chou is agreeable, playful, kind, and she’s standing taller and prouder with every passing day. Why would someone as wonderful as that that get on Hana’s nerves? “She does?”

“I feel like she’s looking down on me,” Hana says.

“How?”

“By treating me like a kid. Asking about my teachers and friends and hobbies. It’s annoying.”

_She’s being a mother._ But at least Takeshi has an answer he can give to Chou. “I see.”

“Seriously, I hate people like that,” Hana continues. “It’s exhausting to be around them.”

“I love people like that. So much that I married one.” Takeshi turns it around on her.

He turns his attention back to the delicate circuitry in his miniature solar panel, since he’s not eager to encourage Hana to say more terrible things about Chou, but in the quiet, he hears Hana sniff. He looks up and she tucks her chin low, hiding her face.

“…Bathroom’s around the corner?” Takeshi offers. Given Hana doesn’t want to be treated like a kid, she probably doesn’t want to be offered a handkerchief or asked ‘What’s wrong?’ Instantly, Hana sprints to the door and slams it behind her. Now there’s silence in the house as Takeshi tries to figure out what he did wrong.

_Her makeup is probably ruined._ Takeshi sets aside his tools and goes to the bedroom, where he prods Chou and asks to borrow her eyeliner. Then he slides it under the door for Hana. Like so many other changes in the past four months, Takeshi has no idea if it’s going to help anything, but he figures this is a year for trying new ideas, no matter how strange.

Hana leaves thirty minutes later. With the touch-ups to her eyeliner, she looks like she wasn’t even crying.

* * *

Chou lays all the ingredients out in her home kitchen and finally creates her first cake without supervision. It’s well-baked, evenly frosted, and has a lovely flower design in the center. Maybe it’s a bit small, but it’s just for one person.

Crafting the letter is harder than the cake.

_Morita-san,_

_I apologize for being cowardly and writing down an apology rather than saying it to you aloud. I just want to make sure there’s no misunderstandings about what I said to you outside the food court._

_I think your school helps many children in this town, and that you’re right that we should hold ourselves and future generations to high standards. You have a large number of strengths as a leader, so I don’t want you to think that I hate you. I’m sorry that I raised my voice and caused a scene._

_However, I need you to understand that I am not sorry for anything that I said. Excellence is not the only value we should measure in people. When people make mistakes, they deserve a chance to try again. If we only accept people who were perfect from the start, then no one would try to better themselves. For example, this is my twelfth time making a cake! It’s much better than my first try. It’s even much better than my eleventh try._

_I hope you enjoy the cake. I would enjoy spending time with you if you can resist insulting my family, because I also have hope that you are more than a petty bully._

_Sincerely,_

_Kurusu Chou_

* * *

Before heading out to the job site, Fukuyama pulls Takeshi aside with a grave expression on his face. “Have you been following the financial news?”

“Yes.” More than Takeshi ever had before, thanks to Fukuyama, but still not intently.

“This ‘Medjed’ thing is going to be pretty bad. Mass panic hasn't set in yet, but things are probably going to get worse a week out from the deadline,” Fukuyama explains. “I’ve started withdrawing my savings. Just in small increments, I don’t want to cause a run on the bank. But if the Phantom Thieves don't stop Medjed, we could lose everything.”

“…I see,” Takeshi says. The advice is sound, a good strategy if someone wanted to save their own skin ahead of a financial crisis, but Takeshi’s still confounded by the fact that _anonymous international hackers are dueling vigilante phantom thieves._ It’s too absurd to process.

"You should start doing that, too. You have a wife depending on you.”

“Who’s depending on you?” Takeshi asks. Fukuyama hasn’t talked about his family at all.

“I'm depending on me,” Fukuyama replies instantly. “But you never move unless someone makes you, so this is me, making you move. Think about your wife. Or your son, if your wife doesn’t motivate you enough.”

_I think of Akira every day._ Takeshi doesn’t say that, but he nods and then he and Fukuyama get to work. When evening hits and the news repeats the little information they have about Medjed and the Phantom Thieves, Takeshi tries to decide what to do.

Fukuyama doesn’t trust the Phantom Thieves. He has no reason to. But he doesn’t seem to trust anyone else, either. The advice to withdraw his savings feels like something Fukuyama wouldn’t have given him three months ago. Fukuyama thinks there's about to be a disaster, and once he knew how to save himself, he made the effort to try and save Takeshi, too. And that only happened because Takeshi decided to stand up to their boss.

_…Once you change your own heart, you can change the hearts of others._

Later, when Fukuyama asks if Takeshi followed his advice, Takeshi nods to give him the impression he did. But in reality, everything he has is still in the bank. Maybe he’s being stupid, but he has a feeling Chou and Akira would bet on the Phantom Thieves, too.

* * *

Deep in the kitchen, Chou hears the bell to the bakery ring, and Sachiko greets, “Welcom—oh!”

A friendly man’s voice answers, “Mom, how are you doing?”

Chou whips her head around. _Mom?!_ For some reason, Chou can’t bring herself to openly intrude on this reunion, but her curiosity is too great. She peeks her head around the corner.

The man in the front of the bakery doesn’t look too much like Sachiko, but Chou blames that on his masculine face and her poor viewing angle. He’s wearing a polo shirt and smiling. Sachiko seems to be smiling too.

“How’s Tomomi-chan?” Sachiko asks.

“The orchestra keeps her busy, but she’s very happy,” the young man answers. “She’s already thinking ahead for what they’d like to play in the next season, and she'll need to oversee auditions to fill a few empty seats."

“How does she even have time for _you_?” Sachiko quips, and it sounds like it’s only half a joke.

“She manages. I send her off each morning with your croissants,” he quips right back. _It’s Sachiko’s son, no question._ “You know, you should visit! Once the heat breaks, it’ll be lovely, and I can show you around while Tomomi is in rehearsal.”

“What would happen to this place if I left it?” Sachiko insists.

“It would be closed for a few days, and then you’d open it right back up!”

“Let me think about it,” she finally deflects. “You should have told me you’d be visiting, I’d have cleaned your room for you.”

“If you want me to help you clean it, I’ll come home.”

_He seems so good-natured… how could he possibly have disappointed Sachiko-san?_ Relying on her newfound boldness, Chou picks up a tray of cookies and carries them into the main bakery. “Excuse me, these are done! Where should I put them?”

Sachiko looks stunned, and her son looks curious. “You have a part-timer? Mom, you should have mentioned!”

Chou bows. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Kurusu Chou.”

“She’s not a part-timer,” Sachiko corrects. “More like a charity case. Chou, you can go home for the day.”

Chou blinks. That’s not what she expected Sachiko to say. “Um—”

“There’s nothing you need to do today I can’t do myself.”

“Well, didn’t you want to go home with—”

“He should have known I was busy,” Sachiko declares, then she turns to her son, “When the bakery is closed, I’ll see you again.”

The son looks sad, but he nods to Chou and leaves Red Ribbon. Chou sets down the cookies and speaks up again, “Sachiko-san—”

“Out.”

Chou feels like she should fight, but when Sachiko speaks in that tone of voice, she can’t help but leave. Sachiko’s son is out of sight too, so Chou can’t chase him for answers. She just stands on the sidewalk and stares, bemused, at the summer sun.

* * *

Medjed’s deadline is days away, and Takeshi can see Hana carry tension in her shoulders. Rumors that her beloved Phantom Thieves will lose are spreading fast. She can’t focus on reading and just plays on her phone. Then one rare night, when Takeshi arrives home before Chou, Hana crashes through the door half an hour after him, struggling to pretend that she isn’t out of breath.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, because he has to. A child like her shouldn’t look so panicked.

“I…” Hana takes a deep breath and tries again. “Akira-kun isn’t using his bed, right? I can stay overnight.”

Takeshi is used to people making outrageous demands, assuming he’ll agree because he’s quiet, but this sets a new record. “Why?”

“I’ll cook my own breakfast in the morning and leave. Kurusu-san won’t even notice.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Takeshi points at the couch. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong! I just want to stay the night!”

“Hana-chan. You have to tell me why.”

The ultimatum clearly troubles her, and when she answers, it sounds like a lie. “There’s a… broken pipe in my room.”

“I know a plumber. I’ll take his card to your parents.”

“No! He’s—already there!”

“Yamada?”

“Yeah, him!”

“So if I call Yamada, he’ll say he’s at your house?” Hana looks _livid_ that Takeshi has put pressure on her lie, so he backtracks quickly. “I just want the truth. Tell me what happened, and… you can stay.”

It’s a snap decision, just like when he stood up for Fukuyama. Takeshi is way less certain about this choice. He and Chou have been avoiding Akira’s room for a long time. Chou had spent a few days in April straightening it up, but that was so long ago. Will Chou scold him for volunteering something that belonged to Akira to someone else? Akira is her son, too.

_Well, it’s Akira’s bedroom. He’d want someone in need to use it._

Hana looks torn too, and as she stands in the Kurusu living room, her breathing doesn’t look like it’s getting any more even. “I… put a request on the Phan-site.”

“Phan-si—oh,” Takeshi catches up. “For who?”

“My parents. They used to just fight, and now they’ve started screaming.”

“About what?”

“Anything. The housework, Dad’s job, the news, my grades… I put their names on the Site, but that was two months ago. Nothing’s happened. Maybe the Thieves can’t do anything in a little town like this.”

Takeshi stands there and tries to think it through. The ideas his old self would have had are feeble: stupid things like telling Hana that no matter how bad her family got, she always had to go home. But even the newer ideas, like Takeshi or Chou going to talk to their neighbors and let them know how badly their fighting was affecting Hana… that wouldn’t go over well either, not for two people who are already at each other’s throats.

“Are you afraid they’ll start screaming at you?” Takeshi asks.

Hana hesitates, but then she nods. “Sort of. But even if they only fight with each other, what would happen to me if they broke up?”

Takeshi knows that, barring some kind of documented abuse or disastrous incompetence, Hana would go with her mother. He doesn’t know Hana’s mother well enough to make any guesses about how she would support herself as a single mom. Is that why she’s staying married to her husband? But if she knows what’s at stake, why does she keep screaming, whether she’s starting it or rising to provocation? Hana doesn’t seem to find one of her parents more at fault than the other.

“…I don’t know,” Takeshi admits. “What would help you now?”

Hana still looks tense, but she scoffs. “Letting me stay overnight, like I asked?”

Well. Takeshi likes starting with simple solutions. “I have to tell your parents where you are. But you can stay. And we’ll figure something out.”

For the first time that night—the first time all week, if Takeshi remembers right—Hana smiles, just a little bit. “Thanks.”

* * *

The ‘Hana situation’ bothers Chou through her entire day at the bakery, and she can’t help but ruminate on it as she walks home.

Takeshi made the right call, she knows he did. He even took care of washing Akira’s sheets after Hana left! He didn’t have to, but she appreciated his effort. But what were they supposed to do about this? Takeshi didn’t think meddling would help, because the situation was so precarious. Hana didn’t give many details about the nature of the fighting. The urge to just open their home to Hana completely is strong too, but Hana still didn’t get along with Chou all that well, and they _did_ still expect Akira back in two hundred and eleven days. What would Akira think if he came back to find they had adopted a little sister for him?

_Can I expect to mend Hana’s parents as well as Sachiko-san with her son?_

Come to think of it, what _can_ Chou do about Sachiko? The baker seems content to ignore it, but Chou has so many questions she wants to ask. How did things end up this way? What would it take to undo the damage done?

Chou is walking with her head up, even as all these worries stir around her head. She realizes she’s got her head held high when she sees Morita walking the other way on the street—and for the first time in months, Chou won’t be ambushed.

“Good afternoon, Morita-san!” Chou greets with a small wave.

Morita’s eyes lock onto her, then narrow. “What are you trying to do?”

Even without an ambush, the accusation is disorienting. “Excuse me?”

“Four students have pulled out of my school. What did you say to their parents?”

“I didn’t say anything! I haven’t been in contact with any parents.” Almost all of the mothers Chou was acquainted with stopped talking to her after Akira’s arrest. “But you lost four students? What happened?”

“Their parents wouldn’t say! But there’s no way they would have all decided to leave unless you spoke to them.”

“I swear, no one has spoken to me since April!” Chou grips her hands and tries to keep her voice from shaking. “You did get my cake, right? With the letter?”

“I read your insipid little manifesto, and it doesn’t matter! You think the world gets better just because of a stale cake?!”

“If it went stale, it’s because you let it sit around,” Chou retorts, and she only realizes she said that aloud when she sees Morita’s expression change from rage to bewilderment. “But really, it’s not about the cake! Cake doesn’t change the world! And it was just a metaphor anyway…”

The bewilderment starts to fade into a suspicious sort of confusion. Surprisingly, Chou finds it easier to breathe now that Morita looks anything but angry. She gets an idea, and as if she didn’t have enough to worry about with Sachiko and Hana, suggests, “Is there something I can do to help you?”

“Why would you even want to help?”

No matter how many times they talk, something about Morita always gives Chou shivers. But after five months, trying to figure out how to live her own life, Chou makes the words come out of her mouth. “Because I want to see you improve too, Morita-san.”

Morita hesitates a moment longer. “Help me track down the families who have left. I need to hear their reasons why they’ve left, so I can tell them what a mistake they’re making.”

It’s an absurd promise, but Chou asked for Morita to set her terms. Time to accept them! “My afternoons are fairly free! I look forward to working with you!”

Morita’s eyebrows pinch together again, the anger returning, but she departs, leaving Chou alone with a new problem and a little bit more hope.


	6. September

“Happy birthday!” Chou cheers, popping a little confetti pod. The streamers mostly land on Takeshi’s head, and by her smile, that was on purpose.

“Happy—birthday—!” Takeshi pulls on his own confetti popper, but the string gets caught and his aim dips. Some confetti tangles in Chou’s frizzy hair, while the rest lands on the tiramisu between them. “Sorry—”

“Don’t worry, that will be Akira’s slice!” Chou reassures him. She separates the paper-dotted piece from the rest of the cake with a knife. Takeshi’s portion follows, then her own. The tiramisu is small, but it only needs to feed two people.

At the first forkful, Takeshi reports, “It’s delicious.”

“It’s pretty good. I don’t think I used enough mascarpone.” Chou tries another bite and meets Takeshi’s eyes. “Don't worry, it’s not that I feel bad about it. At least I know what to fix for next time. Besides, you’d eat anything I bake, wouldn’t you?”

Rather than say anything, Takeshi shakes his head and starts to laugh.

“What’s so funny? Am I wrong?!”

“I’d have more reasons to talk if you stopped reading my mind,” Takeshi explains, still grinning a little.

Chou leans across the table to poke Takeshi’s cheek. “I like you stoic. And you _like_ that I can read your mind, don’t you?”

He doesn’t have to say anything for Chou to know she’s right. He can’t identify anything wrong with the mascarpone, but he won’t complain if she makes another. He’d even eat it if the second attempt is worse.

“I hope Akira’s having fun,” Chou says, looking to the cross-off calendar on the living room wall. It’s September 10th, one hundred and ninety-two days until Akira’s return. “I wish we could have sent him a present. Or a card. Or even just some spending money…”

‘We’ll give him something when he’s back,” Takeshi suggests.

“What, though? I feel like it should be at least a little extravagant, since it’s his welcome-home gift too. It’s almost like we’re welcoming him back to the family…”

“What about a pet?”

Chou perks up and beams at him. “That’s perfect! He’ll come home, then we’ll go to a shelter, we can get the bowls and bed and—wait, will it be a cat or a dog?”

Takeshi knows his son. “Cat.”

“I thought so, but it’s reassuring that you agree.” Chou is just radiant as she runs with the idea. “I wonder what kind of cat he’ll choose? A playful one? Or a lazy lap cat?”

“I hope it has a strong purr.”

“Like an engine!” Chou giggles. “A birthday cat! A new family member!”

* * *

“…So, would you be free this afternoon?” Chou asks her phone. “I really do need to talk to Ito-san for a bit. Yes. Yes, thank you! That would be very helpful! I’ll talk to you then!”

Chou hangs up with satisfaction. She even managed to handle that conversation with Sachiko watching her the entire time! She puts her phone away and changes out her gloves. “Okay, so you need the cookies cut?”

Sachiko looks unimpressed. “So you’re helping that Morita woman, even though she was so rude to you?”

“Rude people deserve help too,” Chou said.

“Or are you doing this so you can get some moral high ground on her? That she was cruel and you were nice, until she came to rely on you?”

Chou has to pause. “I’d be lying if I didn’t want Morita-san to see things my way after I helped her. But I’m fine if my only reward for this is that she stops making comments about my family. I don’t need us to be friends."

Sachiko hums, but she drops the topic, shows Chou the cookie dough, and gives her the star-shaped cutters. After months of practice, Chou is happy with how she can nestle the stars together close enough that there’s almost nothing wasted at the end.

But there’s something else Chou wants to ask. After chasing down all those other parents for the last week, she feels brave enough to ask it.

“Sachiko-san… when did your son move away?”

“Focus on the cookies.”

“I’m sorry, but you gave me the impression that you didn’t have any family earlier. It sounded like your son is a good baker, like you. Did you want him to inherit the bakery?”

“You’re not here to ask me questions like that.” Sachiko-san points at the work table. “Cookies. Now.”

Chou presses her lips together. She thought she was used to Sachiko’s clipped tone and direct orders, but this is a new level of brusqueness. Well, if Sachiko did want her son to have the bakery, what happened? Is it because he fell in love? Chou has no idea if the son is married or not, but he’s clearly supporting her career with some kind of fancy orchestra. Why would Sachiko be upset if her son was helping an accomplished artist?

As the star-shaped cookies start to pile up, Chou remembers another time she met Morita. _“I ordered cookies for my high-achievers_.” And then Morita said something rude about Chou working at the bakery, and Sachiko interrupted…

_Baking matters so much to Sachiko-san… Is she upset that her family doesn’t value it like she does?_

With every cookie Chou punches, she reminisces, and she’s more and more certain that Sachiko feels abandoned. It’s intuition, but everything she’s felt at the Red Ribbon bakery supports it. There’s a broken relationship here that Chou doesn’t know how to mend.

* * *

Takeshi learns, weeks too late for him to do do anything, that Hana didn’t finish her summer homework. She did the parts that interested her, Japanese and history and literature, and left the rest of it undone. It only comes up because Hana starts telling Takeshi the topics that set her parents off: her father didn’t trim the bushes. Her mother forgot noodles at the grocery store. Hana’s homework is unfinished.

“School still matters,” Takeshi tries to explain. “It’s the most important thing you can do to control your future.”

“I’ll get married.”

“To who?”

“Someone. Anyone.”

“Someone who will scream at you?”

Hana glowers at Takeshi. "I only said that because it's the answer stupid girls in my grade give. The ones that can't think for themselves."

It's kind of reassuring to know she's joking. “So, are you different than them because you know what you want for your future?”

Hana goes silent and fiddles with her teacup's handle.

“What excites you?” Takeshi asks.

“The Phantom Thieves,” she answered first. “Occult magic too… horror stories…”

“Would you want to write stories?”

Hana shook her head. “I don’t have anything important to say.”

“Does it have to be important?”

“Obviously, otherwise it doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe it just has to be important to one person.”

“Which person?”

Takeshi’s main source of information about what the Phantom Thieves do is Hana herself. The news covers the pervert teacher, the famous artist, the yakuza boss, and the international hackers, but Hana knows the small stories too. The woman faced with a stalker, the teenager beaten by his brother, the workplace with a tyrannical boss. Those stories will never make the news, but it makes all the difference to the people who were living in hell.

“Me,” Takeshi decides. “Write stories you like, and I’ll read them.”

Hana looks suspicious. “Do you even like horror?”

“Not really. But I’ll like what you write."

“And why is it so important to you that I start writing stories?”

Takeshi glances at the calendar-wall. One hundred seventy-five days until Akira’s return. “Because the day-to-day gets easier when you have hope.”

Hana looks like she wants to say something, but she looks at the calendar-wall too. “I’ll… race Akira-kun. I’ll finish a book before he gets back.”

“That quickly?"

“I’ve got some stuff jotted down, so I think I can rearrange it and create most of a story.” She pauses and adds, “But there will be ghosts in in it this time. That’s what I need to add. Ghosts and revenge. And more threatening enemies”

“I won’t take the chapters unless your homework is done.”

Now Hana looks _betrayed_. “You can’t set a condition like that when you said you’re the one who wanted me to write!”

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry!”

“Nope.” Takeshi smiles at her a little bit. “Or my wife could read what you write instead?

Hana groans. “That’s even worse…"

“Just think about it,” Takeshi says, with finality. “I really want to see what you come up with.”

Hana doesn’t stay around longer after that conversation. Takeshi is pretty sure he bullied her again, but given that she’s stuck around so far, she’s probably okay with people who are a little bit mean.

* * *

Chou sits across from Morita, trying not to look at her pearls, or her manicure, or her business-professional shirt. There’s a smudge of flour on Chou’s own face that she forgot to wipe off, and it feels like Morita is staring at it with a laser-focus.

“Well, it’s not as bad as you think,” Chou starts. “The Ito family is moving to Kyoto for a job opportunity, but they don’t want to announce it to everyone yet. Then Kotobuki’s daughter just became captain of the soccer team, and they think she might be scouted for professional teams if she practices enough. She’s really talented, so they’re fine if her grades drop a little.”

Morita tapped her fingers on the table. “I can’t talk them out of that mistake. What else?”

“The Okamoto family has some financial trouble. They might come back if you can lower your tuition…"

“They just don’t value education enough.”

“Does money matter more to you than the chance to help their son?”

Morita ignores that and asks, “What about the Hiratas?”

Chou takes a deep breath. She has been dreading this one. “…Haruki-kun has been having a hard time with the pressure. His mother said he… he's usually in tears, after cram school. Last Monday, he had a panic attack over going to class that day. His parents made the choice to stop cram school in exchange for him continuing to go to school.”

“And you think that’s my fault?”

“Haruki-kun is trying his best,” Chou says. “And when you make him feel that his best isn’t good enough, he starts thinking that he might as well do nothing. The Hiratas love their son too much for him to feel that bad about himself.”

"This sounds exactly like the kind of thing they would believe if they heard the rumors about you screaming at me in public."

Chou winces this time. Morita is exactly right, Hirata-san had basically said as much when Chou got a hold of her. _"Your son got arrested, and you still value his happiness over pushing him to succeed. It put things into perspective, y'know? So long as my son is happy, then everything else will be okay."_

Morita nods at Chou's silence, then clicks her tongue. “If the Hiratas have decided they’re going to coddle their son, then I can’t help them.”

“This is your idea of helping people?”

Morita smiles. “I think you offered to help me find why my school had lost families, not lecture me about how I run my school.”

“I was just thinking, Haruki-kun can’t be the only one who is too stressed to actually learn anything. Do you really think you’re running a good school when you have a student suffering like him?”

The smile fades. “Thank you for your help, Kurusu-san, but I don’t believe we have anything left to say to each other.”

Chou tries to control her expression. _First Sachiko-san, now Morita-san… Everyone is shutting me out._ “I understand. But please let me know if you need anymore help.”

“Certainly,” Morita said, with a tone like acid.

* * *

The apartments are almost complete, and there’s just the finishing touches of electrical work to put on. Fukuyama is still pushy with everyone, pushier than Takeshi would ever be, but he’s stopped acting like an almighty tyrant. There’s even days when Takeshi and Fukuyama eat lunch across the little break table in the mobile office, and they feel kind of like friends. Usually, Takeshi updates Fukuyama about his progress in reading business books, and Fukuyama adds in his own opinions and tells stories of other businesses he’s heard about.

“If you like business so much, why are you an electrician?” Takeshi asks. 

Fukuyama kind of presses his lips together.  “First, tell me why _you_ became an electrician.”

“My father was.” 

“Will your son be an electrician, too?”

“He’ll choose what he wants to be.”

“Did you want him to be an electrician before his arrest?”

“Not really.”

Fukuyama shakes his head. “You choose the weirdest things to have strong opinions about…”

Takeshi hadn’t thought his passive nature was weird until it started causing problems. Even becoming an electrician had just been something expected of him. He doesn’t regret that he followed that path, because it let him marry Chou and father Akira, but he can’t shake that he might have been able to better protect Akira if he had spent his life practicing standing up for himself.

“Well, you have strong opinions all the time,” Takeshi tells Fukuyama. “If you have strong opinions about business… why aren’t you a businessman?”

Fukuyama chews some food while chewing through his thoughts. “I guess, I want to do something incredible with my life. When I was a kid, electricity was incredible. I built a two-meter tall Tesla coil in my final year of high school.”

“That’s amazing.”  


“It was a while ago. I was pretty good with wires and electricity, so I started working as an electrician. But, electricians don't shoot condensed lightning around. I started researching business management when I realized that working as an electrician wouldn’t let me do the incredible thing I wanted. But this town is so small. There’s really only space for one electrician’s company. I could either oppose Sato-san, who had experts like you on his side, or I could work hard and get promoted. Become his partner or something.”

“Do you still want to be his partner?”  


Fukuyama shook his head. “After my mistake in June, I realized he doesn’t see any of us as partners. He showed me his true colors.” Then after a snort of laughter, Fukuyama added, “And you showed me yours.”

“Me?”

“Maybe you’ve never cared about building anything incredible, but you care about people. You’d never forget that your subordinates are human beings.” He takes another bite, and with food tucked in his cheek, changes the subject slightly. “Sorry for giving you _The Okumura Way_ to read. There’s still some good lessons in it, but no one should do business the way Okumura does.”

“You believe in the Phantom Thieves?”

“I don’t really care. But they’ve brought light against some real shadowy people. Can't be mad about that.”

Takeshi looks down at his lunch. He wonders if long ago, Okumura had wanted to build something incredible. Maybe Sato had wanted to build something incredible. Maybe, along the way, they lost sight of what an 'incredible thing' really was.


	7. October

There’s a special order that needs Sachiko’s full attention in the back. Chou finds herself alone at the front register for the first time. She doesn’t have any traditional dress, but she tries to put her frizzy hair in a bun like Sachiko’s, even though that doesn’t quite work either.

_I’m not perfect, but I’ll show Akira how strong I am._

Chou knows that Sachiko gets fairly regular customers. It’s not enough to pay for Chou’s labor, or in her own opinion, enough to pay Sachiko for the amount of work it takes to create the elegant, delicate sweets on display. But almost nothing goes in the trash at the end of the day.

The customers are surprised to see Chou. In a town this small, most people are familiar with each other’s faces. They know Chou’s name. Most know about Akira. Thankfully, no one is hostile about it, and Chou takes their money and gives them their pastries.

“Tell Sachiko-san hello for me,” almost everyone says, in some variation. “Give my regards to Sachiko-san,” “I hope Sachiko-san is well,” and “Let Sachiko-san know I came by!”

Everyone passing through Red Ribbon knows Sachiko and has some kind of connection to her. There are old women on strolls with their husbands, who say they’ve been buying their weekly dessert from Red Ribbon for twenty-five years. There’s fashionable teenagers coming through after school, usually with a ringleader claiming to have “discovered” the place. The haughty bragging only lasts until they taste the sweets, and all the rest falls away into joy. There’s mothers with children, bribing the youngsters with a cookie so long as they behave. Families, friends, even individuals coming through know Sachiko by name.

As Chou cleans fingerprints from the display case, she thinks. She thinks about journeys and destinations. When the police took Akira, they carved the heart out of her home and left it hollow. Friends she might have relied on vanished, and she had nothing to do but dwell and wander and hope to find someplace to belong.

Red Ribbon is a place like that. With sugar and butter and eggs, Sachiko built somewhere that people belong. It reminds people how they belong to each other.

Sachiko deserves to be part of the togetherness she creates.

There’s a reflexive anxiety in the pit of her stomach about it. Forty years of social conditioning to not meddle in the affairs of others doesn’t evaporate, even over six months. But the more time Chou spends at Red Ribbon, seeing Sachiko pour her life into treats with the power to bring people together… Chou can’t let her own fear get in the way of doing something good.

_A young man… a woman named Tomomi… working in a city orchestra…_

Yeah, that might be enough to go by.

* * *

… _With a final wave of her staff, Riko's spell finished. The circle surged violently with light! And when the light faded, a tall figure stood at the center menacingly._

_“Who summons me here! Who is the one who seeks my power!!!” it roared thunderingly._

_Riko stood proudly. “I am the one called Riko, the black witch of pure heart! Why are you here, demon of the abyss!?”_

For such a reserved girl, Hana’s writing style is… bombastic. And if Takeshi is being honest, it’s not all that skilled either. It feels like a child recounting a fight scene to a friend who missed the episode, as everything that happens is an escalation on the thing that just happened.

Then again, Takeshi keeps turning pages, because he wants to know what happens next. He supposes that’s a sign that she has at least some talent.

Her homework is done—haphazardly, Takeshi sees, but it’s done—and Takeshi has a total of four handwritten chapters to read. It’s kind of nice to get to know Hana better, through what she chooses to write about. She places a lot more faith in heroes and justice than her apathetic exterior suggests.

Speaking of her favorite heroes, Hana has her headphones in as she watches Okumura Kunikazu’s press conference. Takeshi heard a little bit about it from Fukuyama, since a possible change of heart will rock the business world. All the rumors think that the Phantom Thieves will be victorious once more. Okumura’s been acting strange, they said. Okumura has a big announcement, they said.

_“I have heeded the call of your spell!” the figure announced menacingly._

_“I did not call the likes of you! Go! Back to the abyss where you belong!” Riko impressively waved her staff._

_The figure twisted painfully, but remained in her circle!_

_“Why do you not leave?!”_

_“By the terms of your spell, we are now bound!” the figure said. “And you cannot banish me, not with all of the black magic of your light heart!”_

_"I will show you my black magic! TAKE THIS!!!"_

Hana drops her phone. It clatters on the table, and she gasps and covers her mouth. Her eyes are wide and terrified.

“Hana-chan?” Takeshi sets the writing aside immediately.

“His face—he started crying black stuff—and then he fell—!”

Takeshi picks up her phone, but the stream has been cut. A cute drawing of a dog benignly insists nothing is wrong, but Hana is breathing fast. Something has gone _very_ wrong.

He doesn’t know what to do. He rarely actually knows what to _do_ when it comes to Hana. But he holds her hands and moves her from the table to the couch. At least it’s more comfortable.

“What happened?” Takeshi asks.

She’s still breathing fast. “He—apologized—for everything, and the—the workers, all of that—but he said he was going to—say something else—and then he collapsed—!”

Takeshi looks to Hana’s phone, then back to her. She’s seen something no one should see. She’s scared. And she’s just like Chou was, when they first heard that Akira had been arrested. And no matter how old and mature Hana wants to be, everyone gets scared.

He wraps her in a hug and holds her. Because she needs it and because it’s something he can do. Eventually, her breathing slows and her panic fades, but she stays in Akira’s room again, without the matter even being discussed.

* * *

One Monday morning, on the way to Red Ribbon, Chou sees a piece of graffiti on someone’s door and freezes.

It’s the logo for the Phantom Thieves. Hat, mask, flame coming from the eye. It was drawn with black spray paint by someone who didn’t know how to use it. There’s drips all over it, sending flashes through Chou’s mind of how Okumura died.

Then she looks at the name plate for the home.

_Morita_.

Instantly, Chou knows she’s going to be late. She runs to a corner store and buys a bucket, a sponge, and acetone. Then Chou delicately pokes around the small front patio until she discovers a neatly coiled garden hose. It takes her a few attempts to figure out what order to use the water and acetone in, but the paint eventually starts to come up. 

“What are you doing?”

Morita’s voice cuts through the morning. Chou looks up and sees a second-floor window open, and Morita—without pearls, for the first time since Chou met her—leans out.

“I’m sorry for trespassing, but someone put paint on your front door. I thought I’d clean it up!” Chou sees Morita’s eyes narrow, so she hastily adds, “And I promise it wasn’t me! I didn’t paint your door so I could clean it, and look like a good person. Though, I suppose you don’t trust me…”

“I have a security camera,” Morita says. She points just above the door, and there it is, a round little cylinder with a lens pointed at the patio. It’s a little outdated, but looks like it’s in working order.

“Oh.” Chou frowns. “Did you put that up because this has happened before?”

“It’s just common sense. This town is getting worse and worse.” Morita leans back in, but pauses. “I’m coming down. Step back from the door, please.”

Chou puts her sponge and bucket aside and waits a few minutes to Morita. Once she arrives, she’s mostly dressed, pearls included. The Phantom Thieves logo is still recognizable. Chou hadn’t really been trying to clean it with any kind of methodical logic. She was going for the sloppy paint streaks first. One of the Phantom Thieves must have an eye for design to create a clean and powerful logo. Seeing it rendered with so many paint drips, like blood flowing from wounds, made Chou eager to get rid of it. It’s not supposed to look like that. It’s not what they’re supposed to be...

“The _nerve_ ,” Morita hisses. “The absolute _nerve_ , they will pay for this—”

“Do you know who did this?” Chou asks.

Morita glares. Chou realizes the other woman doesn’t have her makeup on. Pearls yes, makeup no. The glare doesn’t have the same power when it’s framed with the shadows of sleeplessness. “Some delinquent thugs, of course. I’ll find who they are and they’ll face the punishment.

“If that’s what you want to do, I can’t stop you,” Chou says.

“At least you understand that. These Phantom Thieves are murderers, so this—” Morita gestures at the half-washed logo. “—is clearly a threat to my life!”

After Chou went through all the trouble to try washing the graffiti off, she feels entitled to speak her mind. “I think you should try looking at this a different way.”

“I don’t have to listen to you."

“Of course you don’t, but I may be saying what everyone else around you is too afraid to say.”

Morita fixes Chou with that same glare, but doesn’t say anything. Chou figures that’s as good as permission to speak.

“I know we disagree on… well, everything. You believe that vigilantism is wrong, so of course you oppose the Phantom Thieves. You don’t deserve to have your house vandalized either, and I don’t want to forgive or condone what happened to Okumura-san—”

“Get to the point,” Morita interrupts.

Chou flinches, but holds back an apology. “Since the very beginning, the Phantom Thieves targeted people for abusing their power. Maybe that’s not true justice, but any time the Phantom Thieves strike, it’s… giving voice to the weak. The calling cards send a message from the victims.”

Morita is still waiting for Chou to get to the point. She takes a deep breath.

“Please, think about the possibility that the vandal is one of your students. Maybe even one of the high-achievers. Maybe they’re trying to tell you that you’re hurting them, and this is the only way to make you listen.”

Based on how so many of Chou’s other advice-conversations have gone, she immediately expects Morita to tell her to shut up and leave. But Morita doesn’t. She stays quiet and stares at the logo.

“You were on your way somewhere,” Morita says at last. “I’ll return your bucket when I’m finished.”

“Oh, no need! I just bought it, I don’t need it.” Morita clicks her tongue, then opens the wet and messy door to go inside. “Wait, where are you going?”  


“To find cleaning clothes. Shouldn’t you be going?”

“Right—thanks! And I’m sorry!”

But the door shuts, and Chou can’t say anything more.

_Maybe I said just enough._

* * *

“Halfway!” Chou mutters to herself happily. October 21st is here, marking 150 days until Akira’s return. The month of October has been dark and getting darker, but when Chou wakes at four in the morning that day, she can’t go back to sleep. Her excitement whispers, over and over, “Halfway, halfway, halfway!”

They have endured almost six months of separation, and now less than six months remained. The tipping point felt fresh, exciting. She wants to have a cake ready for Akira’s return. She wants to meet him at the train station. She wants to be there with a sign, bearing “WELCOME BACK” in huge letters. Chou will hold one pole and Takeshi will hold the other, and then they’ll toss it aside and hug Akira with all their strength.

She wants to say, “I’m so proud of you.” She wants to say, “Tell me everything.” She wants to say, “I love you, and I’ve always loved you, and after a year of not being allowed to tell you how much I love you, I am going to tell you every day. I love you. I love you, my son, you light my life and even taking you from me could not diminish that light. You are my son and I will love you forever.” She wants to say, “What do you want to have for your first dinner home?”

She settles for scrubbing the kitchen and cooking a spectacular lunch for Takeshi, full of all the cute flourishes she used when Akira was in grade school. Adolescence made her give up on them, as Akira really started to shift from ‘quiet kid’ to ‘stoic teen,’ who really shouldn’t have teddy bear rice balls in his lunch. It is now Takeshi’s duty to eat them.

When he wakes, Chou has been busy for over an hour, and she presents Takeshi with his lunch, tied up with a ribbon as well as its normal handkerchief. He stares at her for a second, so she giggles. “Halfway!”

He finally smiles, takes the lunch from her, and kisses her. She can barely meet his lips she’s smiling so much.

“Come on, let’s mark off the day together. You first!”

Takeshi takes the permanent marker and strikes one diagonal line. Chou takes it and strikes the other, making an X.

“Have a good day at work,” Chou tells Takeshi.

He nods. “We’re halfway.”

“Halfway! Halfway, halfway, halfway!”

* * *

It’s a few days later when Morita arrives at the bakery again. She doesn’t have an order. She asks for Chou. Sachiko permits her to take a break, so Chou goes outside the bakery in her hairnet and apron to speak with her.

“How did you know that the vandal was one of my students?” Morita asks.

“I just guessed,” Chou says. “Based on… who would most want to see you have a change of heart.”

Morita clicks her tongue. “I won’t give the student’s name. He was cooperative, once I found him.”

“Are you pressing charges?

“I’ve decided not to.” Chou lets out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Were you afraid of another young man ending up like your delinquent son?”

“Of course I was. I wouldn’t wish what has happened to us on any family.

“Well, you’ve been getting along fine, haven’t you? Learning to bake and other such miscellaneous hobbies."

“It’s to pass the time, in a worthwhile way.” Chou tells her. “Why are you telling me this, anyway? Especially since you didn’t press charges."

Morita was silent a moment longer. “I had a meeting with the boy and his parents. I told them what he had done, and he confessed to it. He even told them where he hid the spray paint, so I doubt it was a confession under duress. So I decided that the punishment for his vandalism would be expulsion from my school. His parents begged me to forgive him, but…"

Chou watched Morita’s face and waited. She had an inscrutable mask for her expression, smooth as her pearls.

“…The boy smiled,” Morita finished. “I expelled him from my school, wounded his chances at a bright future, and he just smiled. And it reminded me of what you said, that you’d rather see Akira-kun’s future suffer than send him back to my school. And how you believed many of my students were suffering.”

“I still believe that,” Chou says.

Morita sighs. “You know that a just society must have standards for conduct. And if we truly want to know what ‘excellence’ is, there needs to be people whose primary concern is measuring and declaring what is excellent.”

“I mean, I won’t disagree with that…”

“Then people either have to rise to those standards or fall. Otherwise, what’s the point of having grades and schools?”

Chou can feel that Morita has set up a trap. One misstep and Chou will be forced to agree with everything Morita believes in, or be ridiculed for her doubt in grades and schools. _I can imagine it now. ‘Did you know Kurusu-san thinks we should abolish all schools?’_

“I’d like to ask you a different question first,” Chou starts. “What would you do with your life if you didn’t have your cram school? If you weren’t one of the people measuring others, how would you measure yourself?”

Morita stares at her, and Chou kind of thinks that she already said the wrong thing. She always feels like she’s going too far when she talks to Morita, even with every bit of logic saying she hasn’t gone far enough.

“You’re absolutely right that people who judge excellence matter. But if you don’t have any value in yourself unless you have the power to value others, then…. I think that creates problems for your school. It makes you run your school as a place where students are happy to be expelled. It makes students wish that your heart would change.”

Chou folds her hands and lowers her head. That has to be enough. Any more words would just ruin this and put her in a position where she’s no longer saying what she thinks. _Be like Takeshi, let your words stand on their own…_

“Well,” Morita says at last. “I suppose you feel proud of yourself, speaking so frankly.”

“Proud might not be the right word,” Chou says, a little embarrassed smile on her face.

“Is there anything in that bakery today that you made?”

“Em… yes. The petit fours.

Without even saying goodbye, Morita steps into Red Ribbon and strikes up a conversation with Sachiko that Chou can see through the window. By the time Chou gathers herself enough to go inside, Morita has made a purchase, and Chou’s petit fours are gone.


	8. November

Hana doesn’t come over for a while. Takeshi looks for her at the usual street corner, but she’s not there. He calls her parents after a week, just to confirm she hasn’t run away—oh, he just got used to seeing her, he just wants to make sure she’s safe—and then decides there’s nothing he can do but wait. Chou would chase her with concern, offer condolences, suggest advice. But Takeshi knows Hana well enough to know she’d hate that.

So he waits.

It’s the first of November—Akira will be home in one hundred thirty-nine days—when Takeshi sees Hana again. She’s sitting in the living room with a stack of pages on the coffee table.

“Hey,” she says.

He nods at her and sets his tool bag down.

“I finished my homework, so all this is yours.” She points at the pages.

“I’ll read them in a second,” Takeshi says. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“You watched a man die.”

Hana fidgets. “It's not that big of a deal. I don’t let it bother me.”

Takeshi wonders, _how can it not bother you?_ But, Hana will probably get mad if he acts like she needs protecting. She still _does_ need protecting, but she’s just about at the age when she’s going to have to start making her own choices. Might as well let her start choosing now.

He settles on, “You’re brave."

This seems like the right answer. “Yeah. And I know it’s not actually the Phantom Thieves’ fault. Even if their magic spell didn’t work like the other times, they shouldn’t be blamed for that.”

Takeshi doesn’t hear anywhere near as much about the Phantom Thieves without Hana around. “Yeah? How are the Phantom Thieves?”

“How am I supposed to know? I don’t know them personally,” Hana says. It’s a pretty stark contrast to her past reassurances that she knows what’s going on and what they’re planning. “There was a boy at school who got beat up for having a Phantom Thieves phone strap. And my parents tried to lecture me about believing in them, since they turned out to be killers.”

Takeshi finally sits next to her. “Did any of that bother you?”

She’s silent a moment, and then she admits, “…A little. I didn’t want things to go like this. The Phantom Thieves shouldn’t have killed anyone. That’s not why I believed in them."

“You don’t believe in them anymore?”

Hana looks serious. She speaks slowly and chooses her words carefully. “I still care about them. And I’m still going to watch them, and I still want them to change hearts. But I think they taught me about how… your heroes can let you down. This isn’t the way the story is supposed to go, but it’s not a story. It’s life. If I want things to go right, I have to be the one writing the story."

She reached out to tap the pages on the coffee table. Takeshi finally pays attention to how _tall_ the stack is. Hana has been busy.

She notices him staring and explains, “Any time people tried to tease me for admiring the Phantom Thieves, I just wrote more. I added on to the story that I can control. So everything else stopped mattering so much.”

Takeshi smiles a little. “I’ll be happy to read it. You still have to finish before Akira comes home.”

Hana answers with her own smile. “At this rate, I’ll finish by New Year’s.”

* * *

_“This is Hayami,”_ the young man on the phone says when Chou calls.

“Hello, I’m Kurusu Chou—sorry for seeking your contact information like this,” she blurts in a hurry.

_“Excuse me, who?”_

Chou swallows. She needs to focus. “Sorry. At the Red Ribbon bakery, your mother brought me on as a part-timer. We met very briefly.”

“ _Yes, I remember you,_ ” Hayami says. “ _How did you get this number?_ ”

“Well, Sachiko-san mentioned a woman named Tomomi, and I found that she’s actually Fujimori Tomomi, the conductor of the Yomiuri Nippon orchestra. I called the administrative office and left a message for her, requesting your phone number, and she provided it.”

“ _She should have told me she gave my number out…"_

“I requested that she not tell you. I just want to speak with you for a minute.” Chou glances at a clock. It’s close to lunchtime. “Are you free now?”

“ _My mother’s okay, right?_ ”

“Oh! Right, it’s not an emergency! She’s in good health, nothing is wrong there.”

“ _I’m really confused about why you’re calling, then._ ”

Chou takes another breath. _Be brave, be brave, be brave, be brave, be brave_ … “I fully understand that it’s not my place to meddle in another family’s affairs, and I apologize in advance if I’m overstepping boundaries. But Sachiko-san has given me a place to go when I badly needed it, and I want to return the favor for her.”

“ _What are you talking about_?”

“Last April… my son was falsely accused of assault. He’s been serving his probation at a high school in Tokyo, and we’ve been given a non-contact order. I haven’t heard from him in eight months, and he won’t be home for another four. Not being able to see him, and missing all the opportunities to tell him I love him… it’s been it’s torture.”

Hayami hesitates before speaking. “ _I’m sorry that your family is facing this trouble._ ”

“We’re going to make it through,” Chou promises. She believes it. “I’ve been helping Sachiko-san since May, and I’ve seen how much her baking does to bring people together and celebrate the connections between them. That’s why, when it looked like her connection to you was strained, I… couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

“ _Look, I know my relationship with my mom isn't good. There’s no helping it._ ”

“There has to be a way to help it!” Chou insists.

“ _She wanted me to take the bakery, and I wanted to follow Tomomi. She thinks I made the wrong choice._ ”

Chou grips her phone a little harder. “Did she tell you that?”

“ _She doesn’t have to tell me. I just know._ ”

Even though he can’t see, Chou shakes her head. “I think if you ask Sachiko-san directly, she won’t say that. I know she’s disappointed that you’re not a baker, but I’m positive that she doesn’t think you’re a disappointment. Being a family means we continue to love each other, even when they don’t turn out to be the people we expect them to be.”

There’s silence on the other end. Chou hears Hayami breathe.

“I’m really sorry, this is out of the blue and definitely not my business,” Chou says. “But I don’t think your family is a lost cause. Please don’t give up on it.”

“ _What do you think I should do?_ ”

“I really don’t know. I mean, I know Sachiko-san pretty well, but not as well as you do. But… anything to let her know that you love her, no matter what. That should be enough.”

“ _I see. Thank you for your concern._ ”

“You’re welcome—goodbye!”

Chou hangs up. Her stomach is still churning, relief and fear chasing each other in circles. She thought she’d be certain of the right thing after calling Sachiko’s son, but she’s just as confused as before. She supposes this is what taking risks feels like: sticking your neck out, even though you don’t know what will happen. Given how many risks she’s taken just to live differently since Akira was taken away, shouldn’t she be used to taking risks by now?

_Then again, if I get used to it, is it still a risk?_ Chou smiles and taps her phone. _I hope I never get used to this. I hope it’s scary, each and every time._

* * *

The project is over, and the contract has been fulfilled. Takeshi can’t say he’s going to miss working thirteen hours per day on this job site, but the apartments are lovely, trendy, and with another coat of paint, they’ll be ready for tenants.

Takeshi and Fukuyama are clearing their papers out of the mobile office. The last thing to do is report to Sato and then go back to business as usual, with small repairs and installations.

“Hey…” Fukuyama spoke up. “Are we going to tell Sato-san about our deal?”

Takeshi nods. “You did great.”

“All because you knocked some sense into me,” Fukuyama says. “But… maybe we shouldn't tell him.”

“Why not?”

“Getting recognition from Sato isn’t going to get me any closer to my goals.”

“So are you actually going to start that company?”

Fukuyama’s face is tense. “I don’t know how I _could_. This town is still small and unless there’s some new innovation, it’d be no different than Sato’s company. We’d fail for sure.”

Takeshi freezes. “We?”

The word shocks Fukuyama too. “I—No, I didn’t mean that, it’s—my company. _My_ company can’t compete! Not unless there’s something new that I do!”

There’s a knock on the flimsy aluminum door to the field office. The plumbing team has to come in and collect their paperwork too, so Takeshi and Fukuyama pack up quickly and leave. 

By the time they make it to the street, Takeshi knows what he wants to say. “There was space on the building’s roof for solar panels. Even at sixty percent efficiency, they could have powered the entire building.”

“Panels are still expensive,” Fukuyama said.

“If we had built them into the original plan, and the builder had raised rents by three percent, they would have made their money back in two years.”

“Tenants wouldn’t pay three percent more.”

“Three percent is probably equal to electricity bills, which they wouldn’t pay. And some clever person could build interest by calling the building eco-friendly.”

Fukuyama stops walking and stares at Takeshi. He gets a feeling that Fukuyama wants to smack him, for some reason.

“Damn it, Kurusu… brilliant ideas don’t count if you keep quiet!” His tone is loud, almost angry, but there’s a smile on Fukuyama's face.

* * *

All the news talks about is the suicide of the Phantom Thieves’ leader. Chou is sick of it. It all feels grisly, as bad as when people were calling for Okumura’s head on a pike. It’s a senseless tragedy when anyone’s life ends, and she keeps getting shivers when she imagines the situation that leader must have found himself in, so afraid of what the authorities would do to him that death looked like the better option.

_None of this should be celebrated. Didn’t he have family, too?_

It’s part of why Chou accepts Morita’s invitation so easily. The other woman has Chou’s email address on file from the days of Akira’s enrollment in her cram school, but hasn’t had a reason to use it since Akira’s arrest. The message is just a simple request to meet. They choose the department store’s food court, because it’s an easy public place. They sit on the patio for privacy, because no one else is crazy enough to sit outside in this chill.

Morita has her pearl earrings in, but Chou can’t see the necklace behind the scarf she’s wearing. They order teas to warm against the chill, but don’t say more than pleasantries to each other.

“Um… May I ask why I’m here?” Chou says at last. “I don’t think it’s wrong to say I understand you better after all this time, but we’re not exactly friends.”

“I know,” Morita agrees. “But you might be the only person in this town who will dare speak her mind to my face.”

“Surely your friends would speak their mind if you asked them to.”

“My friends already think exactly like I do. And maybe we're right, but for some reason, I won’t be comfortable with the conclusion I come to unless I hear your opinion.”

“I’d be happy to help, then,” Chou says. “What’s on your mind?”

“You saw that the leader of the Phantom Thieves committed suicide, right?”

 _This again._ “Yes, I did.”

Morita nods. She sips her tea in silence for a bit. “It’s strange, they’d come so far just to fall… Even after Akechi-kun argued that they weren’t actually Okumura Kunikazu’s murderers. They had every opportunity to redeem themselves if they could perform one more change of heart. There was no public target, no calling card giving us any sense of who they were acting against when the leader was captured.”

“Do you think the leader isn’t actually dead?”

“Someone is dead, surely, or else the news wouldn’t have said so. And even without their leader, there’s at least one Thief still left, or else the police would have reported the Phantom Thieves as eradicated.”

 _Eradicated_. Like they’re vermin. Chou shivers, and it has nothing to do with the November air. “Excuse me, but is this what you feel like, when I’m talking in circles around the point I want to make?"

Morita smiles at that. For once, it doesn't look forced. “You’re the one who says that the vandal who put their logo on my door was just crying for help, and you were right, so I dug deeper. They have this website, where people post full names of individuals who have wronged them, hoping that the Phantom Thieves will conduct a change of heart.”

“Yes, I heard about that.

“The admin created a search function, possibly to stop multiple people from posting the same name. Five different people posted my name.” She sighs. “I wish I knew who they were."

“Would they be expelled from your school, too?”

“Not necessarily. If I get a reputation for expelling anyone who gossips about me, more parents will pull their children out, and I’d have to shut down."

Chou nods. That makes sense.

"When I saw my name five times, half of me wanted to scream at the children who posted it. I wanted them to know how hard it’s been to get to where I am. The community confidence to determine who is and isn’t a good student isn’t given lightly, because education matters so much to so many people. But then, the other half of me wanted to ask... what should I do? It’s not like I opened my school because I wanted to torture students. Is it so wrong to think that rewarding excellence is a great motivator?”

“No, it’s not wrong,” Chou agrees.

“Then why do my students think I’m some kind of evil woman?”

Chou drinks some of her own tea. “Well… I mean, I didn’t have as much time to think on this as you did—”

“Just speak.” Morita interrupts. “Making the words come out right seems to be a talent of yours.”

Deep breath. “I don’t think any of the Phantom Thieves’ targets started out wanting to become villains.”

“One of them was literally a leader in the yakuza.”

“He's a bad example, I suppose,” Chou says with a small, nervous laugh. “But I don’t think that gym teacher took his position in order to abuse his players. Maybe he wanted to relive the glory of his Olympic win by training champion students, and maybe… um, enjoy attention for it?”

Morita raises her eyebrow at the awkward attempt at delicate phrasing, so Chou clears her throat and keeps going. “But when those desires started to get twisted, no one spoke up to stop him. Slap a player to relieve stress, and everyone seems to permit it. Then punch a player, and face no consequences for that either. Then stand too close to a schoolgirl. People remain quiet every time he crosses the line, so the line moves, and he keeps crossing it, until…”

“That’s what they put on all the calling cards,” Morita says. “ _We shall take your distorted desires_. You’re describing the process by which a person’s desires become distorted.”

“Yes, exactly! It’s exactly like that!” Chou says. “Whatever the Phantom Thieves do to their targets, whatever their methods, I think it… reminds the person what they _used_ to want. And the change of heart comes from the person realizing how far away they are from what they truly wanted out of life. But when the targets faced challenges, they made immoral choices that led to them becoming monsters, because no one intervened.”

“The point you’re trying to make is that I’ll know what to do so long as I remember why I wanted to open my school?”

“Exactly!”

Morita’s hand traces her neck, just under her scarf. “If only changing yourself was that easy.”

“My husband and I have been changing ourselves for the last eight months,” Chou says. “It’s been incredibly difficult, but worthwhile.”

Morita smirks. “You wouldn’t have said any of this to me before Akira-kun’s arrest.”

“I was terrified of you back then.”

“Are you terrified now?”

Chou thinks for a second. She takes a breath, thinks about her shoulders, her hands, and her spine, seeking signs of fear.

“…No,” Chou answers with a smile. “No, I’m not.”

* * *

Fukuyama and Takeshi aren’t on the same jobs anymore, but Takeshi accepts his offer to go drinking anyway.

“Hey… how much more do you need to learn about solar panels?” Fukuyama asks when they’re barely one beer in.

“To do what?”

“To install them.”

“It’s not harder than what we do normally.”

Fukuyama grins. “Then we can do it.”

Takeshi knows what Fukuyama is talking about, so there’s no point in making him spell it out. He can jump straight to the questions. “Panels are still expensive.”

“I’ve been running a lot of numbers about it. We could have people on a payment plan and distribute the cost of the installation with the panel cost. Since you're so methodical, the odds of installation problems are low, so we can offer inexpensive service warranty agreements and give customers confidence that their investment is protected. It's also another revenue stream for us. I also talked with Maeda, at the electronics store, he would pay us kickbacks on his sales of energy-efficient appliances if we install them for free. Service would be key, since I don’t think anyone who’s ever worked with Sato-san came away feeling good about themselves. We’d be a higher-quality service at a comparable price, bringing the green revolution to the ordinary household.”

Fukuyama’s words flood around him. All Takeshi can say is, “You must not sleep much.”

“It’s energizing! And you asked me to help you figure out what to do with your career, right? What would you say to becoming this new company’s President of Technology?”

The title makes him feel like a child wearing an adult’s suit. “It’s not impressive to be a company president when there’s only two people in the company.”

“Look, you’re a technical expert who can plan complex projects, and I want to build an incredible company. The financial and commercial aspects are exciting to me. Besides, you’d be a shitty advertising executive.”  


Takeshi nods.

“Thought so. So, what do you say?”

He stares at his beer like it has answers. “We won’t be profitable for a while.”

“I’ve got enough stashed away for about two years. Two and a half, if I cut back some expenses.”

“Two years?!”

“It will be my priority to pay you,” Fukuyama ignores the outburst. “And as soon as I can match Sato-san’s pay, I will. Then as the company grows, so will salaries."

Takeshi shakes his head. He doesn't care for a President's salary. “This is risky. What if I was your technical advisor?”

“You can’t work for Sato-san and advise his new competitor. It’s a conflict of interest,” Fukuyama points out. “And I know it’s a risk, but the world won’t change if we don’t take risks.”

The matter feels just like the moment when Takeshi stood up to Sato in June: full of power, full of freedom. He knows that the right thing to do is to say yes. Refusing Fukuyama means turning his back on everything he’s done to outgrow the passive man who let his only son be taken from him.  But, he can feel the weight of his responsibilities. He can’t imagine how he would face Chou and Akira if his pursuit of freedom meant that he couldn’t provide for them anymore.

“I need to consult my wife,” Takeshi answers. “Once we know how long our savings will last, I’ll answer you.”

“If you need to dip into mine—”

“No.” Takeshi takes a deep breath. “And… I won’t quit Sato Electricians until my son comes home.”

“You want to spend three more months working for that toad?”

“We’ll be very busy at the beginning. I want to be around to welcome my son. Then I can get to work.”

Fukuyama bows to Takeshi. “So… in April, we’ll start?”

Takeshi nods. “I look forward to working with you, Fukuyama-kun.”

Fukuyama smiles, and then says, “Hey, if we’re going to be business partners… call me Jun.”

_Jun_. He smiles at that. “I’m Takeshi.”


	9. December

Red Ribbon has just opened when Chou’s phone rings with a number she doesn’t recognize. She bows apologies to Sachiko and answers. “Hello, this is Kurusu?”

“ _Good morning. This is Sachiko’s son, Hayami—if you’re at the bakery, try not to react.”_

Chou’s eyebrows shoot up, so it’s impossible to pretend this call isn't important. Sachiko is watching, so Chou pivots and lies. “Dear, you frightened me! Are you calling from work? I didn’t recognize the number.”

“ _Are you pretending that I’m your husband?”_

 _“_ Yes, I just arrived at the bakery! Do you need me to come home?”

“ _I’m calling to tell you that our train just arrived, and we're on our way. The plan is for us to help at Red Ribbon. We’d like it to be a private day, but we need your help to make our mom accept this plan. Her instinct will be to send us away.”_

“Yes. Yes, that makes sense,” Chou says vaguely, like she’s talking to Takeshi. _But he said ‘our mom,’ does he have a sibling?!_

 _“Basically, don’t let her send us away. We’ll be there soon._ ”

“Right. Okay, I’ll remember for later. I love you.”

Chou hangs up and smiles. She had never lied like that before, and it went beautifully! Except when she looks up and notices Sachiko is still watching intently.

“Your husband is having a problem?” Sachiko asks flatly.

“Oh—yes! His thermos sprung a leak! I need to buy a new one on my way home today.”

“Mm.” Sachiko nods, then points to the flour. “I need one kilo, sifted.”

 _Okay,_ now _I can celebrate how well I pulled off that lie._ “Right away!”

Twenty minutes later, the bell chimes, and Sachiko leaves to attend to the customers. Chou tiptoes behind her and hears Sachiko’s son: “Hi, Mom.”

“What—What are you doing here?” Chou steps close to the curtain and can just peek out. There’s Sachiko, her hands over her mouth, facing three people in the store. Sachiko’s son, wearing a coat and scarf this time, a woman with the elegant face of Fujimori Tomomi as photographed for the orchestra’s website, and a younger woman who looks very much like Sachiko’s son.

“We’ve come to help out at the bakery today,” the unknown woman says.

“I—I have help, I don’t need this—”

Chou figures that’s her cue. She steps into the front and clears her throat for attention. Speaking as directly and leaving no room for argument, she announces,  “Excuse me, Sachiko-san. It looks like my help won’t be needed today, so I'm going to go home.”

Sachiko’s eyes are wide. She’s stunned and betrayed at the same time. Her son reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“There’s a lot we need to talk about,” he says. “And there’s a lot that we need to make right.”

Chou offers Sachiko a very respectful bow and doesn’t stick around to see what Sachiko's son says to her. It’s kind of refreshing for Chou to be the one abruptly leaving the conversation. And besides, Chou has done just enough meddling. The rest will be up to them.

* * *

Hana spends more days at the Kurusu house than not after school. It’s cold out, and Takeshi feels better knowing she’s staying warm. She’s started helping herself to the kettle too, and that often means that Takeshi has warm tea waiting for him at home. She writes furiously, sometimes letting her own tea go cold.

She pauses to massage her fingers, and Takeshi asks, “Are things better at home?”

“There’s less screaming, but it’s gotten colder.”

“Right. It’s December…”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Not like that. Just… they’ve stopped bothering to fight. They’re still mad, but at least they’re not screaming anymore.”

“You don’t seem happy.”

Hana picks up her pencil again, but she just twirls it a bit. “Now that it’s quiet, everything feels like it’s over. They’ve given up on being a family and decided that we’re all just going to be miserable.” Takeshi must have made some some kind of face, because Hana shakes her head. “Not me, though. I’m not going to be miserable. I’m going to be a writer. The book is almost finished, but I have a lot of new ideas I want to add. I should type it up before I give it to you.”

Compared to the aimless girl on the street corner, Hana is different now. She has inspiration and purpose in droves. Takeshi wonders if that's what ‘maturity’ means.

“You need to finish your exams before I read anything.”

Hana groans, and this time her eyes roll harder. “It’s so hard to focus on studying! I am in the _throes_ the most exciting part! The _throes!_ ”

“Maybe you can memorize things better if you imagine Riko and the Great Demon screaming it at each other.”

“That’s stupid,” she says as she looks away, but when her vocabulary cards come out, Takeshi can see her mouthing along with the words in a soundless scream.

_…It’s not actually maturity. It’s just determination._

* * *

Chou spent a few days away from Red Ribbon as Sachiko’s children took care of helping out. It appears the bad feelings left to fester in that family can’t be resolved in a day. Chou practices a few cakes at home, trying to decide what Akira’s welcome home cake will be. She’s really having a hard time deciding between Angel and Devil’s Food. She wants the cake to be bright and pure as the happiness that they’ll all share, but at the same time, she knows Akira prefers darker flavors, like rich and bitter coffees. She practices baking both at home, to see which she’s better at.

Sachiko’s son is kind enough to text a warning: _December 9th_ _, we’ll be leaving. Thank you for everything._

So on December 9th, with exactly one hundred days until Akira’s return, Chou goes back to Red Ribbon, ready to work another day. Sachiko is there before she arrives, strong and proper as ever, but with a softer look in her eye.

“Good morning, Sachiko-san!”

“When you said your husband’s thermos had leaked, that was a lie, wasn’t it?” Sachiko says immediately.

“Ah… yes, you’re right. Hayami-kun had called me with a warning that they were on their way,” Chou admits. “Did you have a nice time together?”

“‘A nice time’ is one way of putting it. We talked about everything that has gone unsaid between us for ten years.” Chou must have been making some kind of face, because Sachiko’s tone turns stern. “I’m not going to gossip about it with you. I know you deal with your problems by involving others, but this matter is private.”

“I’m sorry! I won’t pry, I promise!” 

“You already pried,” Sachiko points out. “Why?”

Chou isn’t prepared to answer that, but Morita herself believes that Chou has a talent for making the words come out right even when she speaks off the cuff. She just needs to answer honestly.

“You have such a lovely bakery. It’s a place that helps people show their love for each other. After you had done so much to help me, I thought it was wrong that a woman who created such an amazing place can’t enjoy that love as well. Putting the love you have for your family into the treats you bake won’t last forever. You needed to talk to each other, and you did.”

“How are you sure your plan even worked?”

Chou isn’t sure how she knows. Hayami thanked her, but that doesn’t guarantee that the conversation was a success. “Because I have hope.”

Sachiko smiles. She sets Chou to work without another word, and then decides that she’s going to take a walk before the lunchtime customers arrive. Chou is alone in the bakery for two hours, following the meticulously written order instructions to the letter. Nothing goes wrong. There’s a sense of pride Chou feels, the longer she cares for Sachiko’s bakery and keeps it running properly.

The head baker returns, spends some time manning the front register and helping Chou with preparations for the next morning. Foot traffic evaporates with the setting sun, so Sachiko decides to close the bakery. "Before you go, I have something for you."

Chou turns and receives a single key, with a very simple keychain—just a ring with a red ribbon tied in a bow.

“I made this copy while I was out,” Sachiko explains. “There will be times when I’ll need you to be in the bakery without me.”

“Are you going to visit your family more?” Chou asks. There’s excitement in her voice that makes Sachiko scowl a bit.

“It’s not your business what I do. Maybe I’ll just sleep in some mornings. But you were right. It’s all well and good that this place helps others show love, but I can’t let a business become my life—especially when I don’t have that much of it left.” Sachiko fixes Chou with a stern look. “You’ll avoid making my mistakes, won’t you?”

“Of course!” Chou holds the key close to her heart. “You taught me well, after all.”

She leaves the bakery and holds that key close the whole way home. She only succumbs to practicality and adds it to her key ring when she pulls out her keys to open her house. The red ribbon is tied so well, and even though Chou knows it won’t be perfect forever, she treasures how beautiful it looks now.

Then she opens the door. Inside, Hana is waiting for Takeshi, but the news is so exciting, she sets aside her dislike for Chou.

“It’s another calling card! On national TV! For _Shido Masayoshi!_ ”

* * *

**To: Kurusu Chou**

**From: Morita Ichika**

**Subject: I’d like to discuss something with you. Please come to my school in the evening.**

**_This message has been left blank._ **

The school is empty when Chou arrives. There are desk cubbies lined up, thirty of them in total, for rotating shifts of students to cover different subjects with intensity. Chou passes the much-hated excellence chart on her way to Morita’s office. She scans for Akira’s name, but it’s not there. It’s not even crossed out. The chart must have been re-made at some point after April.

Morita’s office is small but elegant, decorated with classical pieces of art. The desk is covered in paper, with no sign of a computer. She must have a preference for analog work. Chou waits for Morita to motion that she should sit.

Before she does, Morita speaks. “I told my high-achievers that I plan to evaluate performance differently in the new year. It didn’t go over well.”

“What do you mean?"

“They like that there’s a system for ranking students, and they like being at the top. I told them about my proposal to reward improvements over excellence, and they all called it unfair."

It’s another one of _those_ conversations then. “Before we get into that, may I sit down?”

Morita finally points to the chair across from her desk. “Please, go ahead.”

Once settled, Chou feels like she can think straighter. “Have you spoken to the parents?”

“Just the students for now, but word will surely get back to the parents.”

“I’m proud of you for developing a new performance evaluation system.”

“I didn’t call you here for you to be proud of me, I called you so I can figure out what else should change.”

“It sounds like you already know what should change.”

“But my high-achievers—”

“Morita-san, your high-achievers do so well in your system because they are exactly like you. They want to be told that they are the best so that they can feel superior to other people. Changing your system takes that from them, but it’s not healthy for them to be so obsessed with it in the first place.”

Morita blinks at Chou. “That was quick.”

“Oh—I interrupted you too, I’m sorry—”

“You apologize a lot for someone who has no intention of changing her point of view,” Morita countered with a small smile.

Caught, Chou laughs a little nervously. She still doesn’t feel afraid of Morita, not anymore, but there’s something about all these serious conversations they have that puts her on edge. “Did you think about when you founded your school? What you wanted to accomplish?”

“I think you’ll be unsatisfied with my answer.”

“It’s not about whether I’m satisfied or not.”

Morita traces her double strings of pearls. “I founded my school out of a belief in meritocracy. I wanted the best of the best to become the leaders who will guide us to a bright future. If they studied hard, and were rewarded for excellence, then they would go forth and change the world for us.”

“That’s a wonderful reason!”

“But it’s completely antithetical to how you measure progress. You believe that people should be rewarded when they improve, not when they succeed.”

“We’re still allowed to disagree, at the end of the day,” Chou says with her own little smile.

“I suppose so.”

“And my main objection is how your school implements its meritocracy. Those who aren’t the best of the best still have a right to lead happy lives.”

Morita tapped her fingers on her desk. “So what would you have me do?"

“You can do whatever you want. But if you want my opinion, don't listen to your high-achievers. No matter if they criticize you, your school is still the best in our town. They won’t leave.”

With that, Morita nods. “Thank you for coming to speak with me. I may ask to meet you another time.”

“You know, we can spend time together without having debates about society,” Chou suggests.

“But Kurusu-san, where is the fun in that?”

* * *

“Are your exam grades out?” Takeshi asks Hana.

“No, they aren’t.” She pushes the stack of paper toward Takeshi anyway. “Will you just read it already? I rearranged scenes and made edits, and there’s a new character in the middle—”

“Did you write instead of studying?”

“Not _instead_ of…”

That doesn't sound convincing. Takeshi folds his arms.

“I did fine in Japanese and history! Math was always going to be a lost cause and you know it!”

“It’s not a lost cause. Shido got a calling card.”

That phrase has become something of a coded statement for the two of them, even though the broadcast had only been a week ago. After a dark and terrible November, the Phantom Thieves returned, stronger than ever, and declared war on the front-runner for the next Prime Minister of Japan. Those in power aren’t safe from consequences any longer. Nothing is impossible. _Shido got a calling card._

Hana rolls her eyes. “I just really don’t understand why grades decide my future. There’s so many ways to be happy in the world that have nothing to do with being smart in a socially acceptable way, you know?”

“I do know. You’ve shown me that,” Takeshi says. “But the more opportunities you have, the more surprising things you’ll do with them.”

“I never thought that _I_ could do something surprising,” Hana admits. “Everything I liked was made by someone else, some other talented person. I never created anything new for myself until you pushed me.”

“I didn’t mean to push.”

“I think it was the right kind of push.” Hana taps the printed pages. “You know, if you read this, you’d get a better senseof what I’m talking about.”

That’s tempting. It’s always a struggle to really understand Hana, but he’s grateful she’s willing to find a way to share what she means and doesn’t just surrender anymore. “If you’ve failed any of your exams, I won’t read anything else until next school year.”

“That’s fair! I don’t think I truly failed anything. Then I’ll make you set your standards for next time before you see my actual grades.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Of course I can! Shido got a calling card!” Hana reminds him with a sly smile.

She leaves to have dinner at home, and Takeshi opens the book. Riko, the black witch of pure heart, is still the story of a young witch who accidentally binds herself to a Great Demon, and decides to use the power of the demon to destroy the other Lords of Hell and free the world from pain and misery. It’s an extremely idealistic story, but it always leaves Takeshi with a sense of hope for the future. In her revision, Hana goes a lot easier on the adverbs, so there's hope for Hana's writing talent too.

There’s also a brand new chapter four.

_Riko walked the entire way to the Mountain of Thunder. It took her ages, but she made it. The voice of the Great Demon in her head grew quieter as she reached the peak and laid down on the grass and slept for an entire day._

_Suddenly, a tall man appeared and stood over Riko’s body. She woke and stood, waving her staff to cast a battle ward over herself. “Who are you?”_

_“The Guardian of Thunder.”_

_“Are you here to cast me off your mountain, because you fear my black magic?”_

_“No.”_

_Riko lowered her staff. “I have been bound to a Great Demon. I need to break the curse that keeps it in this world.”_

_“I cannot break your curse, but you may stay on my mountain.”_

_So Riko left the Guardian of Thunder found a cave. She carved sigils and runes onto the walls and floors of the cave and tried everything she could to separate herself from the Great Demon. No matter what she did, its presence kept a grip on her heart._

_With nothing else to do, Riko returned to the peak and found the Guardian of Thunder. “The Great Demon cannot be separated! This is the one curse that I cannot find the power to break! What should I do?!”_

_“What do you want to do?” the Guardian of Thunder asked._

_“I want to eradicate evil from the world, with the dark magic at my fingertips!”_

_“Then do that. You can’t fight evil if you run from it.”_

_Riko nodded to the Guardian of Thunder. “Then, I shall return to the fight! If I do not see you again, then know I have died in battle!”_

_Then Riko waved her staff and prepared to descend. If she truly wanted to fight evil, then she must find the Doors to Hell Itself…_

That's all there is to chapter four, but once he finishes it, Takeshi feels he's smiling.

* * *

On December 18th, Chou and Takeshi do their civic duty and cast votes for a new Prime Minister of Japan.

They discuss it only a little bit beforehand. The ‘discussion’ is more like Chou summarizing everything she knows about each candidate while Takeshi listens and nods or shakes his head. Shido Masayoshi is still the front-runner in every opinion poll they can find, but there’s no way they can vote for him after seeing the Phantom Thieves’ calling card. The problem is that all the other candidates, with weak policies and divided voters, have absolutely no chance.

“I just really don’t know what our vote is supposed to do to change anything,” Chou complains, just before they go to the polling station.

“Maybe it won’t,” Takeshi says. “But we can deny Shido a unanimous win.”

Chou smiles. “I think I'd be happy with that. I’ll see you when we’re finished?”

They take turns in the voting booth. Turns out they picked different “protest candidates,” but their policies are alike enough that there’s no hard feelings.

There are hard feelings when they get back on the streets. There are people loudly discussing their vote. Shido. Shido. Shido. Shido. Shido.

“Honestly, anyone who doesn’t vote for Shido should be rounded up!” A man boisterously declares. “It’s an act of treason to oppose him!”

The man has moved on before either Chou or Takeshi can say anything. But they walk home with their heads up, hand in hand, holding tight as they can, refusing to feel afraid.

* * *

_If my son can’t have a normal student life after an assault, Shido shouldn’t be allowed to be Prime Minister after he confessed to killing Okumura and causing mental shutdowns. Why do people still want his inauguration?_

Meeting with Fukuyama—with Jun—is one way to take Takeshi's mind off of how strange the world feels. As everything that Takeshi thought he could rely on sank into the ocean, discussing the new electrician company with Jun feels like a life ring. It's something to hold onto.

“What do you think of this?” Jun passes an embroidered cap to Takeshi. It’s a lovely royal blue color, and the gold thread creates two kanji.

“True Power?”

“My name’s spelled with ‘truth,’ and yours is spelled with ‘strength,’ but we’re electricians, so I had to change it.”

“But this doesn’t say electricity. It’s ‘power,’ as in might.”

“If the artistic liberties aren’t okay, you can say so. I only made one hat, after all,” Jun says. “But there are lots of powerful companies in the world. If they don’t stay focused on the good that they do for people, then… they don’t understand true power, like you do. Like you taught me. If we name the company after that true power, then we can teach the world.”

Takeshi holds the hat and stares at the kanji. “You’re the one who taught me about power.”

Jun laughs. “I would have been really embarrassed if you said something like ‘you’re welcome.’ Guess we’re even.”

In a strange way, it’s the colors Jun chose that sells Takeshi on the name. That deep blue and strong gold gives Takeshi the impression of something ethereal but mighty, like a transformation from one self into another. Wearing a hat like this comes with an intense responsibility, but after nine months of challenging himself, Takeshi feels ready to take it on.

“The name’s great,” Takeshi says at long last. “What should I be doing now?”

“Preparing a Christmas date for your wife, ideally,” Jun tells him. “And studying everything you can get your hands on. March is going to be here before you know it.”

The mention of Christmas makes Takeshi curious. “Will you be alone?”

Jun shrugs. “I’m not really into dating right now. Once I’m worth something, I’ll find that special someone.”

It’s just a platitude Takeshi has heard tossed around, but Takeshi feels like Jun deserves some advice. “If you have value in the future, you have value now.”

That makes Jun laugh. “I get that you’re trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate it. Seriously, I’ll be fine.”

Takeshi tries to hand back the cap, but Jun won’t let him.

“You should have the first one. It’s my thanks, for everything.”

* * *

It’s a day before Christmas Eve. The world feels darker than winter can properly account for. It’s not that no one is calling for Shido to be prosecuted. It feels… deeper. Like a the first tremors of a devastating earthquake.

This time, it’s Chou who reaches out to Morita. She’s just too frazzled to put her thoughts in order. Even if Morita voted for Shido and wants him to take office, that contrasting opinion might help Chou make sense of hers. They find a small cafe with only two indoor tables and order teas. The instant Morita takes off her scarf, Chou notices that her usual necklace of pearls has a string missing. She’s too out of sorts to comment on it, and instead asks about Morita’s political opinions.

“I didn’t vote for Shido, not that it mattered,” Morita reports. “Frankly, I don’t think there’s a single politician in the Diet who has a completely honest past. It’s simply the nature of the career.”

“That’s very pessimistic, isn't it?”

“You told me that my top students would resent any changes I make to my school because they rely on my judgment to feel superior to others. Shido is the same way. The Phantom Thieves changed his heart, but he has his own ‘high-achievers’ with a vested interest in making sure things don’t change.”

Chou frowns, but the tension in her chest starts to unravel. It helps just to understand why the world is still so wrong.

“Do you believe Shido should convince his own supporters to abandon him? That will be difficult for him, if he’s actually been hospitalized."

“No, that’s not it,” Chou says. “There has to be something else.”

“What, then?”

“…I don’t know.”

Morita clicks her tongue. “It sounds like you’re uncertain because you can’t solve the whole mess at once.”

“I don’t think anyone could solve this whole mess.”

“So stop expecting that of yourself. You can be useful without being some kind of nonsensical vigilante superhero. Leave that to the phantom delinquents in masks.”

Chou meets Morita's eyes. Her stare is pointed like a needle. “You know what I should do?”

“Keep speaking up. It's that simple.” Morita sips her tea. "Recently, I spoke with the principal of the high school. She’s in support of my grading changes, and even offered to let me collaborate more closely with the curriculum. I think she sees an opportunity for this ‘rising tide’ to help all students.”

“And your high achievers?”

“I ignored their backlash, but I know I have to do better. I’ve started working on expanding my network. Treats and praise are feeble rewards for the truly excellent. They deserve to be rewarded with opportunities. I plan to be the first person in this town to have a relationship with a university. Then I'll be able to write letters of recommendation.”

“That’s… unprecedented, right? I’ve never heard of a cram school’s recommendation mattering more than an actual school’s.”

“Well, why would a lack of precedent stop me?” Morita says. “You screamed at me, reasoned with me, and held your ground against me, and caused me to do the unthinkable. I changed. If I want to create the meritocratic future where our best and brightest— _truly_ the best and brightest—are at the forefront, I need to fight harder to support our most talented students. I’ll scream, and reason, and hold my ground against college deans until they recognize our little town's talented youth."

Chou nods. _Hold my ground._ No matter what, she needs to hold her ground. “You’re really inspiring, Morita-san.”

Morita smiles. "Thank you for noticing.”

While Chou laughs, Morita reaches into her purse and pulls out a small velvet pouch. “Anyway, I’ll be traveling for the New Year, and probably won’t see you until early January. So I wanted to make sure I gave you this.”

Chou opens the little pouch. Pearls spill onto her hand, strung together in a necklace. Instantly, Chou looks to Morita’s neck, realizing this is the other half of her usual double-pearls necklace.

"This is—I can’t accept this!”

“Why, _Kurusu-san,_ ” Morita says, with a faux-snide tone that reminds Chou of her torturous comments back in April. “Are you really so rude that you’d refuse a gift from me?”

“Yes, but—I mean, no, I’m not! Rude, I mean! But—”

“Take it,” Morita insists. “Wear it the day Akira-kun comes home. Let it show him that his mother is someone of excellence.”

* * *

_To Kurusu Takeshi and Chou,_

_This letter serves to inform you that Kurusu Akira has been arrested in connection with the following crimes:_

**_Trespassing at a private residence.  
_ ** **_Trespassing at a place of business.  
_** **_Destruction of property.  
_ ** ******_Illegal broadcast._**

_His transfer to a juvenile detention facility has been decided. You will receive further notices about his case and his sentence as it progresses._

_Requests for additional information should be directed to the following offices, to be answered within 30 days…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title for this chapter: "Blood Oaths."


	10. Freedom

“Why,” Chou voices through her tears. “Why, why, what even happened?! He couldn’t have done all those things, he was doing so well! He—He must have been doing well! We were working so hard waiting for him and there’s—there’s no way, why— _why_ —”

Takeshi holds her. She grips his shirt and cries. Tears slip out of his eyes too. The letter is cold and formulaic, invulnerable to challenge. He’s trying to think through what this means. How long is Akira’s sentence? Can they visit him in Juvenile Hall? Call him? Or write?

_Why won’t anyone tell us when we can see our son?!_

The day they receive the letter is a day of grief. The day after is a day of calling the government offices to find out what can be done. The only answer they get is that Akira is part of an “ongoing investigation,” and it’s due to his history of criminal activity that they’ve decided to hold him in prison.

“What investigation? Our son is not a criminal!” Chou demands on the phone, but her voice is shaking, sorrow getting the better of her.

“ _I am not able to disclose the nature of the investigation._ ”

“Why?! Why can’t you tell us?!”

But she doesn’t get answers. Neither does Takeshi. There’s nothing to do but cry.

They stop crossing off days on the giant wall calendar. They don’t take it down, but the end of December is empty, and the January begins with no marks. Neither of them can bring themselves to take it down, but adding more X's would just mark how many days Akira has been in jail. The few days off that Takeshi gets for the beginning of the year are ruined by this new wave of misery, so much like that fateful April.

On the morning of January 3rd, someone knocks at the door. Chou’s eyes are red and raw, but she can see it’s Sachiko.

“Red Ribbon should have been open an hour ago,” Sachiko scolds. “Why are you still here?”

Chou blinks at her. “They… arrested Akira.”

“And you vowed that you would keep living if that happened. Get out of the house, come to the bakery, we have eclairs to make.”

“I…” Chou stumbles around what to say, when she sees Takeshi turn the corner, tools in hand. “Oh—did you forget something?”

Takeshi shakes his head. “Jun told me to go home.”

“But—didn’t you have assignments?”

“He and the company juniors took them.”

Sachiko nods, like she’s put something together. “It makes sense. You need to stop and process, but Chou will dwell if she stays at home. She needs to keep busy.”

Takeshi looks confused at this elderly woman assessing what he and his wife need, but Chou remembers. When then police took Akira from them the first time, Takeshi kept up a normal routine and went to work, even while Chou fell to pieces. But he had just gone through the motions, moving forward because he had to, and feeling sick for it. Chou had sought a part-time job in the first place because staying in their empty home had tortured her.

“…I understand,” Chou says, rubbing her eyes one more time and just making them sting again. “Let me… um, get dressed, and my coat…”

Takeshi places a concerned hand on Chou’s shoulder, but she nods, _it’s okay_. She had promised to keep living. Maybe she just has to show Akira how strong she can be for longer than she thought. She doesn’t intend to let her son down now.

* * *

Takeshi has no idea what to do with his days after Jun sent him home. It must have been a hell of a speech he gave to the junior electricians, because for ten consecutive days, Jun places a diligently penned check for one day’s wages in their mailbox, even though everyone else is doing overtime on Takeshi’s behalf. He supposes it’s the best way the finance-minded Jun knows to show support, and it’s deeply and surprisingly appreciated.

 _Should we push forward with True Power, or scrap the whole thing?_ Jun probably won't let Takeshi back out, but with Akira in jail, Takeshi can't help but feel he's come so far just to lose on a technicality.

Hana comes by. She claims she wants to write, but she makes tea for Takeshi and uses their kitchen to practice cooking. She says sorry about Akira again, and then says with total conviction, “Shido got a calling card.”

_Nothing is impossible._

Takeshi just doesn’t see how yet.

Hana's presence distracts him a little bit. She burns a lot of what she tries to cook, so Takeshi stays nearby to air out the kitchen and scrub crud out of pots. He feels Hana watching him a lot, but stays silent as usual.

“You know, my parents told me something yesterday,” she brings up. “They said they’ve had an appointment with a marriage counselor. They’re either going to fix what’s wrong or split up.”

It’s a dire ultimatum, but Takeshi knows that Hana considers it good news. “What changed?

“I don’t know what made them decide to do it. But the world has felt different since Christmas. Everyone used to be stagnant, and now they've started to move.”

“Oh.”

Hana pours tea, because she’s getting pretty good at it and can’t burn it. “It doesn’t actually help you, to know my home life is getting better. But it’s just something to be hopeful about. People figuring their lives out.”

Takeshi nods. It honestly does help, just a little bit.

About an hour after Hana leaves that day, another woman visits. She says her name is Morita, and she knows Chou, and that she heard the news. She sits with Takeshi and asks him as many questions as she can: about the nature of Akira’s charges, the context, the timeline, anything she can think of, and Takeshi has to tell her, “We don’t know.”

Morita looks furious. “They won’t tell you anything? Then how can they even be sure Akira-kun is the one who committed those crimes?”

Takeshi stares at her for a second. “Sorry, how do you know Chou?"

“I’m the curriculum and enrollment administrator at the cram school your son attended.”

 _The woman who wrote those awful letters about Akira's grades?_ “I see. Can I ask why you care?”

“Authority must be earned. It can’t be taken. This doesn't make any sense. There must be self-advocacy resources available for situations like this.”

Takeshi figures that Chou must be a good friend of Morita’s for her to care so much. It’s just daunting to see someone care, after no one cared a single bit following Akira’s first arrest. “We don’t even know if we’re allowed to contact him.”

“Why not?”

“His probation included a non-contact order.”

Morita’s eyes go wide. “Your wife never mentioned that.”

“We… endured it.”

She takes this information in, tapping her fingernails against the tabletop. “Very well. Trust me on this. You and your wife have been very strong this past year. It’s about time everyone else woke up and followed your example.”

Takeshi nods, thanks Morita, and shows her out. When Chou makes it back from the bakery, Takeshi tells her about Morita’s visit and what she said. For the first time that year, Chou smiles while she cries.

* * *

Chou and Takeshi rely on their friends more than they’ve relied on anyone before. Cooking meals, running errands, making hard phone calls, and just keeping the house from getting empty.

They get to meet each other. Jun says that Sachiko has an “everyone’s honored grandmother” aura to her, for better and worse. Morita starts talking to Hana about her school, which goes over half-poorly and half-well. Takeshi speculates that most of Hana’s interest is because Morita would make an excellent villainess in one of her stories. Morita tries looking down on Jun, but he talks circles around her when it comes to business management and earns a grain of respect. Sachiko smiles through it all, grand as a matriarch, and gives them far more leeway than she shows to Chou, but Chou figures that’s fine. Apprentices must be held to higher standards than amateurs.

Still, their presence can’t erase the pain or the confusion. Weeks pass without progress. They reach mid-February with no word about Akira’s case.

Then they receive a letter.

It’s a note from the desk of a public prosecutor in Tokyo, Niijima Sae. She wishes to inform them first and personally that Akira’s charges have been reversed. His name has been cleared, both for the charges listed in December and for the initial assault charge almost a year ago. He will finish serving his original probation term on March 20th, and he will have a completely clean record after, with no consequences for his future prospects.

Akira will be home in thirty-four days.

Chou grabs Takeshi’s hands and _dances._ He follows her, awkward body and stiff legs be damned, as they spin around their living room together, their laughter bubbling over. There’s too much joy to worry about whether they look silly. Their son will be home and their family will be whole.

Somewhere along the line, they kiss. And they kiss longer. And they find themselves in their bed. They stop before things go further, because they realize that, if they go through with this, the odds are high they will have to welcome Akira home with news that he will be a big brother.

The next day, after a trip to a pharmacy, is another matter.

* * *

Chou starts baking practically the moment the sun rises on March 20th. She plans to create a three-layer masterpiece of chocolate cake, snow-white frosting, and fresh strawberries arranged in a crown on the top. That leaves Takeshi to clean the house, which he does with intense focus. He’s got Chou’s pink blossom-pattered handkerchief tied around his hair. Seeing the cute kerchief on his serious face makes Chou laugh and kiss him, before she returns to her cake batter and Takeshi sees to the house: the carpets, the windows, the dusting, the laundry.

Hana can’t come over because of a family outing, but she puts a note in the mailbox saying congratulations. Sachiko called Chou’s baking plan too ambitious, even as she drafted custom instructions with wishes of good luck. Morita had some strange ideas about what constitutes ‘helpful’ and sent a sheaf of flowers fit for a graduation ceremony to their house. Jun organized another week off for Takeshi, even against his own protests. “Isn’t the point of your job to support your family?” he scolded.

Everything is perfect by six o’clock. The cake is set, the house is spotless, and Takeshi and Chou sit near the door. Surely Akira will be home soon.

Then seven arrives.

Then eight.

“Has something gone wrong?” Chou asks. “Who would know?”

Takeshi goes to the phone and picks it up, and does the one thing they had resisted doing for eleven months.

He calls Akira’s case manager.

“Are we allowed to have contact information for Akira’s parole officer? We’d like to coordinate our son’s return.”

With the phone number obtained, Chou sits on her hands so she won’t bite her nails while Takeshi dials Sakura Sojiro. He holds the receiver close enough for Chou to hear.

“ _Hello_?”

Sakura’s voice isn’t what Chou was expecting. She’s not sure what she was expecting, but it's deep and rich and just a little gruff. Takeshi also hesitates for a second. “Excuse me for calling so late. I’m Kurusu Takeshi… Akira’s father.”

“ _Oh! Got it…_ ” Now Sakura sounds surprised. Why would he be surprised?

“Do you know when Akira left Tokyo? He hasn’t arrived home.”

“ _Right—he’s definitely on his way. His friends arranged to drive him home and make some final memories together. If they’re late, it’s because they don’t want to say goodbye yet._ ”

“I see,” Takeshi states. He and Chou make eye contact, sharing an intense relief to hear Akira _has_ friends, but deeply curious about who they were.

“ _Actually, if I can give you some advice_ ,” Sakura continues. “ _I don’t know what your relationship with the kid was like before his probation, but… he’s grown a lot. Try to show him you’re proud of him._ ”

“…Right. Thanks.”

As soon as Takeshi hangs up, he wishes he had said something different, like _Of course we’re proud_ and _We’ve missed him so much_. But, what’s done is done.

Takeshi looks too Chou. “We’ll wait?”

She smiles. “We’ve waited a year. What’s another few hours?”

* * *

It’s a little after ten when they hear an engine pull up to the house. Chou springs from the couch to her feet in an instant. Takeshi follows on her heels. Their street gets so few cars, let alone ones that stop and idle in front of residences, so it must be Akira.

_He’s home! He’s home, he’s finally home—_

There’s a large van parked technically in front of the neighbor’s house. Two teenagers stand beside it. They’re both shockingly blonde, one with flowing ponytails and one with a bleached tuft on top. From behind, another boy appears, slender and dark-haired. He’s holding a cardboard box exactly like the one Akira packed before shipping out to Tokyo. The teenagers notice when the Kurusus appear around the corner. Something in the way they turn their heads feels… coordinated. Like the way wolves all look the same direction when they hear a noise.

“Excuse me,” Chou says. “But would you happen to be Akira’s friends?”

Two more girls appear, both with short hair, one brown, and one fluffy. The dark-haired one answers with a businesslike professionalism, “We are. You are the Kurusu family?”

“Yes—please, where is he?”

The blondes look back into the van, but basically everyone is facing Takeshi and Chou. Their body language looks defensive, like they expect something terrible to happen to Akira if they verbally confirm his whereabouts. But, in just a few more seconds, Akira steps out from the back of the van.

Akira has _transformed._ Takeshi and Chou knew their son for sixteen years, with all his ups and downs. But this teenager is sharp, graceful, and handsome, with an unbowed back, and surrounded by peers who obviously think the world of him. It’s only by a few quirks—the tilt of his head and the way he traces his fingers along his wrist, fidgeting—that Takeshi and Chou recognize this is their son and not an unrelated, magnificent prodigy with gray eyes and frizzy hair.

There’s no reason for Chou to hold back anymore. She cries, “You did it! _You did it_!” and flings her arms around Akira in deep hug. Takeshi follows, bracing one arm around his wife and the other around his son.

Over Akira’s shoulder, Takeshi notices the teenagers look confused. In her arms, Chou can tell Akira has gone stiff. She holds on a bit longer, hoping Akira will reciprocate, before she pulls back and looks up at him.

He looks stunned. Like he didn’t think his parents would want to hug him after a year apart.

“We’re so proud of you,” Chou gushes, half because she finally can and half because it looks like Akira didn't expect her to say it. “We have so much to tell you—and you have to tell us everything about Tokyo! It must have been so hard, but you did it! We knew you could! Come inside, we have a cake for you!”

Akira watches his mother, and the expression makes Chou's heart hurt. There’s distrust. Why is there distrust?

“Can I say goodbye first?” Akira asks quietly.

“Oh! No need, you can all come in! We’d love to meet all of you, wouldn’t we?” Takeshi nods helpfully. “There’s plenty to share, and it looks like you all drove a long way!”

Yet another teenager appears, a small girl with long orange hair and huge glasses. She carries a school bag in her hands and immediately takes position behind Akira’s shoulder. Her distrustful expression matches Akira’s.

“If you need dinner, I'm sure I can find ingredients to cook for you…” Chou offers. Nothing about this exchange is how she imagined it. What has gone wrong? There has to be some way to salvage this happy night.

“Thank you for the offer, but we actually stopped for dinner earlier,” the fluffy-haired girl mentions.

“Oh, you did?” Chou tries to keep smiling, but it hurts a bit now. “I’m so sorry, I wish we could have coordinated, but no one told us when the non-contact order expired!”

The blonde boy steps closer. “Hold on, the what order?”

“Non-contact order?” Chou repeats. “After the first set of false charges, the parole officer told us that the courts determined our parenting was partially to blame for his arrest. If we contacted Akira, we would be violating his parole, and he’d go to jail.”

“That doesn’t sound quite right,” the brown-haired girl says slowly. “A non-contact order punishes the one _making_ contact, not the one being contacted. Even if the duration had been explained badly, it should have been clear Akira can't be punished for being contacted.”

And just like that, everything _clicks._

Tears gather in Chou's eyes. “No—No, no... We didn't... I mean, we thought—”

The girl hiding behind Akira speaks up. "Well, it kinda makes sense. Remember who we were dealing with? Bet he had plenty of official-looking cronies who could lie about the law."

“Perhaps this was a coordinated sabotage? He may have gone as far as to control which school Akira attended while on parole,” the dark-haired boy holding Akira’s belongings adds.

"That's right, even our principal was involved..." The girl with ponytails doesn't finish her sentence. The bleached one slams a fist against the van door.

Chou and Takeshi are missing vital context for what these teenagers are even talking about, but before they can ask clarifying questions, Akira speaks.

“Did you question it at all?” There’s pain in his words, a deep and bitter pain. "Even _once_?"

Takeshi places a hand on Chou’s shoulder before she can answer. Some of her tears fall, but she goes silent.

“Let’s go inside,” he suggests. “We’ll clear everything up.”

* * *

Akira doesn’t follow his parents directly. He hangs back and lets his friends enter after Takeshi and Chou. Takeshi notices, and he can tell Chou does too. He keeps his hand on her shoulder, reassuring her, _W_ _e’ve survived so much. We’ll survive this too._

Immediately, the blonde girl sets eyes on the cake Chou made. “Oh my god, _look_ at that! If I had known this was waiting for us, I wouldn’t have had dinner!”

“Since when did bein’ full stop you from eating cake?” The bleached boy jabs.

“There’s so much maternal energy in that,” The girl hiding behind Akira darts through the shadows of her friends to examine the confection. “ButtsPie, full heal!”

Chou wipes at her eye and tries to pull herself together. “I’ve been working part-time with a local baker. I hope you enjoy it.” She turns to Akira and adds, “Remember the Red Ribbon bakery? The owner, Sachiko-san, taught me how to bake.”

There’s recognition in Akira’s eyes, but no trust yet.

“Your home is lovely,” the fluffy girl says, looking around and noticing the sheaf of flowers. “And those are gorgeous!”

“Thank you—those are from Morita-san.”

“Cram school Morita-san?” Akira says with utter disbelief. 

“Yes!" Chou leaps at the opportunity to explain. "Oh, there’s such a story I can tell you, and it took months—but Morita-san changed her merit guidelines! We must have had a dozen debates about it, but her school will be tracking student improvement for the new school year!”

Akira might have something to say about that, but he notices that one of his friends has raised his fingers into a picture frame, focused on the wall calendar in the living room, each day marked off with an X. From Christmas Eve until February 13th, the X’s are replaced with one bold line representing Akira’s time served in prison, and from Valentine’s Day through to March 20th, the X’s changed from black to red. March 20th had a big circle around it.

“You counted the days?” The dark-haired girl correctly guesses.

Takeshi answers her, “It was a way to cope.”

His words are heavy, but the silence is broken by the girl with pigtails. “Hey, we forgot to introduce ourselves! Can we do that while sampling the cake?”

“You’re just on a one-track mind for cake!” The other blonde bursts.

“It’s still a very good idea,” the fluffy girl agrees.

Everyone settles down, and introductions begin. Akira’s friends are: the boy who walked to school with him on the first day, Sakamoto Ryuji; a girl from his class and professional model, Takamaki Ann; an aspiring painter he met at an exhibit, Kitagawa Yusuke; the president of his school’s student council, Niijima Makoto; the adopted daughter of his probation officer, Sakura Futaba; the school's rooftop gardener and Makoto's classmate, Okumura Haru. Takeshi and Chou can feel there's a lot that his friends left out of their introductions—the surnames Niijima and Okumura are lightning rods for attention—but they hold back questions and let these young people declare who they are on their own terms.

Akira lived his life as a chameleon, blending in with his surroundings. To have so many incredible friends surrounding him, no wonder their son returned as a vibrant rainbow.

“This is seriously _so good_!” Ann gushes again. “You learned how to bake this in a year?!”

“I’m glad you like it!” Chou says. “So much has changed. Oh—show him the hat!”

Takeshi stands up and opens the door to a little closet. He finds the royal blue True Power cap and fixes it on his head to show to Akira.

“We’ll officially open in April,” Takeshi explains. “Fukuyama Jun was my junior at Sato Electricians. Now, he and I are co-founders of a renewable energy company.”

“You’ve started your own business? That’s remarkable!” Haru exclaims.

Takeshi smirks a little. "My boss called me a cog once. This will prove him wrong."

Seeing the hat puts a new kind of strange expression on Akira’s face. He reaches his hand up, and Takeshi removes the hat to let Akira inspect it. “Did you pick the name?”

“Jun did. It’s a loose play on our names. He's 'truth,' and I'm 'strength,' written as 'power.'”

Akira runs his thumb over the kanji before he hands the hat back to Takeshi. “Did you make any other friends?”

“Sort of,” Takeshi said. “Hana-chan, from down the street, wrote a book at our house.”

“A whole book?” Futaba leans a little closer. “What’s it about?”

“I’ll get the manuscript.”

While Takeshi retrieves the printer pages, Chou gives details. “Hana-chan is a bit of an odd girl, but she got along really well with your father. He offered to read her story in exchange for her keeping up with her homework!”

Takeshi places the book down and the teenagers peer closer at the title.

“Riko, the Black Witch of Pure Heart… and the Great Demon?” Futaba reads. “Okay, I call dibs, this looks crazy.” She flips open the first page and starts tracing the lines with her finger, speed-reading.

“Guess we won’t be hearing from Futaba for the rest of the night,” Ryuji comments while he fidgets with his cake fork.

“Oh! There’s one more piece of news we should tell you!” Chou says with a clap of her hands.

Takeshi circles the table to stand next to Chou, knowing exactly what she wants to announce.

“You deserve a very big present: for completing probation, returning home, and the birthday we missed,” Chou explains. “So... you can adopt a pet! In the morning, we’ll go to the cat shelter, and you can choose—”

Akira holds up a finger to silence his mother, and in shock, Chou goes quiet. The teenagers—less Futaba, with her nose deep in Hana’s book—share knowing smiles. Akira lifts his school bag onto his lap and undoes the zipper.

The instant the cat’s face appears, Chou shrieks and laughs at the same time. “ _Cute!_ Look at the little cat! Oh, you—you _already_ have a cat!”

“His name is Morgana,” Akira explains as the cat slinks out of the bag and onto the table. He’s a handsome tuxedo cat in a yellow collar, with inquisitive, electric-blue eyes. “I got him out of a tight spot, and he’s been my friend ever since.”

“The magnificent Mona-chan!” Haru proclaims, and Morgana mews.

“He has such a dignified air about him!” Chou coos. “Like a gentleman!”

Takeshi nods. “Mona-sama.”

Morgana meows and struts across the dining table, delicately avoiding plates, to let Akira’s parents stroke him. The teens laugh while Akira mimes being stabbed in the chest. The cat has a purr strong as an engine, just like they had imagined.

* * *

The hour grows later, so Chou insists that Akira’s friends stay the night. Takeshi puts out calls to their friends in town: Jun has a spare futon, Sachiko has two, and Morita has pillows. Meanwhile, Chou’s hospitable excitement fades as she realizes how few of Akira’s friends are calling their parents. A singe mother, a single father, an elder sister, a housekeeper, a dormitory staff, and _no one at all_ , because her parents are out of the country.

She gives Takeshi a serious look. _We are adopting all of Akira’s friends this instant._

Takeshi nods with solemn agreement.

While Takeshi goes out to retrieve the futons, Akira’s friends help unload his belongings from the van. There’s wall hangings, statues, figurines, star stickers, a chocolate fountain, more and more. Akira accumulated souvenirs like he had been a tourist in the city, not on probation.

There are trinkets too, each with a story. A single tarot card from a fortune teller who Akira helped to escape a cult. Dog tags from a doctor who tested a new medicine on him. A gecko pin from a small business owner who used Akira to outwit a blackmail scheme. A fountain pen from a disgraced Diet member whose successful comeback campaign Akira assisted. There must be a dozen of those trinkets in total. It’s clear that Akira made more friends than just the teens who drove him home.

Everyone helps unpack while Futaba keeps reading Hana’s novel. She lifts head periodically to read individual lines to the other teens. It’s all related to the magical bond between Riko and the Great Demon, which makes the teens laugh or nod with an enigmatic kind of understanding. Takeshi and Chou are out of the loop for why that element of the book resonates with them. Probably some pop culture reference.

The final souvenir is a _massive_ oil painting, a meter high and meter and half long, with swirls of red and black paint chased out by a starburst that refracts into gorgeous purples, blues, and oranges. Chou’s jaw drops when she sees it.

“Yusuke painted it,” Akira reports.

His friend smiles with pride. “Its title is _Desire and Hope_. I submitted it to an art competition late last year and won, so as thanks for Akira’s assistance with my creative process, I wanted him to keep it.”

The brilliance of the light chasing away humanity’s darkness inspires her to suggest, “What if we put that in the living room? Since we won’t need the countdown calendar anymore.”

Yusuke looks honored, and after a moment, Akira nods too. While Chou takes down the pages and smooths them for preservation, Akira measures a steady, perfectly level line on the wall and nimbly taps picture hooks into place. He’s never been so precise with his hands before. Perhaps Takeshi will finally let him tinker with electrical wiring. There’s no way Akira could get electrocuted with dexterity like that.

By the time the futons are laid out, it’s nearly midnight, and basically everyone is out of energy. The four girls will share two futons in the living room. The boys will share one in Akira’s room, with Morgana already taking a liking to Akira’s bed. The Kurusus loan pajamas to everyone and turn off the lights.

Akira doesn’t immediately go to bed. He hangs by his parents’ bedroom, but even skulking in the doorframe, he's standing tall. The shy slouch he spent his adolescence developing is entirely gone. He’s strong and proud and everything his parents hoped he would grow up to be.

He just grew up without them.

“Want to come in? We didn’t get much chance to talk alone.” Chou offers.

He sits at the end of the bed. Chou is near the pillows. Takeshi stands near Chou’s nightstand.

“Your friends are incredible people,” Chou begins. “And they came all this way just to bring you home! That's so nice of them.”

Akira nods. Still stoic, like his father.

“You’re still upset that we didn’t contact you, aren’t you?”

He looks away from his mother. “I thought you were like everyone else. You abandoned me.”

“We didn’t want to—they told us we couldn’t contact you!” Chou’s words come out in a rush. “When they said that violating the non-contact order could put you in jail, we couldn’t risk it! Even if it was a lie, we never wanted to hurt you!”

Akira still doesn’t look convinced. “Makoto figured it out instantly. If you had called…”

Chou feels herself tearing up. If they had called, they would have known it wasn't true. If they had called, things might have been easier. If they had just _called_ …

“We love you, Akira, and always have,” Chou continues. “But we believed what we were told because… we were weak. Back in April, we were ordinary people who wanted to stay out of trouble. We should have been more like you from the start.”

Their son's face tilts just a little bit toward them. Chou offers him a small smile and keeps going as tears well in her eyes yet again. “You know, there were so many days that the only thing that got me out of bed was thinking, ‘You have to show Akira that you’re strong.’ We've changed ourselves, we've met people who changed us, and so much is different now. I hope you can see that we’re not the people we used to be. I hope that makes it easier to believe that we love you.”

Takeshi sits on the bed beside his wife and meets Akira’s eye. “You have every right to blame us for being fooled. But your mother and I spent every day you were gone working hard.”

“Working for what?” Akira asked bluntly.

There’s lightning down Takeshi’s spine, the way there always is when he needs to speak his mind. “To become worthy of calling you our son.”

Akira’s head lowers at that. He leans just a little bit forward, enough for Chou to know she should open her arms. Finally, Akira hugs her. Takeshi’s arms wrap around them both, and with the three of them together, the world feels _whole_ again.

An unknown number of minutes later, the hug relaxes, and they just sit together. Chou can see Akira’s eyes are red, but the suspicion has dissolved.

“You’ll probably only spend a year at home,” Chou mentions in a soft voice. “You came home expecting to count the days until you could move back to Tokyo, didn’t you?”

Akira looks reluctant now, but he nods.

“You look truly happy with your friends. You belong with them in Tokyo. I don’t think it’s possible for us to keep you away,” Chou places her hand over Akira's. “I just want to enjoy the year we get to spend together before you go. We can show you how much this place has changed, and send you off with fond memories of home!”

“We’ll never lose touch again,” Takeshi adds as another promise.

Akira looks between his parents, like he has something he wants to say. They’re expecting something like _Thank you_ or _I love you too_ , and they give their son the space to choose his words and speak.

He says, “I was the leader of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.”

And now there’s an entirely different kind of silence.

“…The leader?” Chou repeats in shock. “You were the—they reported the leader’s suicide! In November!”

“I know. We faked it.”

“You faked your own death?! They reported it, the—We _heard the news_ , and we had no idea—you were in danger! There was a bounty for your arrest! And the first calling card, in April—you’ve been in danger since _April_?!”

“I know,” Akira repeats. “I didn’t think I’d ever tell you, but after you said all of that… I won’t keep it a secret.”

“Are your friends the rest of the Phantom Thieves?” Takeshi asks.

“Yeah. Including Morgana.”

That statement freezes all shock and panic. “Your… cat?” Chou clarifies. “Your _cat_ was a Phantom Thief?”

Akira smirks a little. “I should start at the beginning.”

* * *

When Takeshi’s phone starts ringing, he steps back from the tourist shop’s storefront and answers it. “This is Kurusu.”

“ _Hey. It’s Sakura._ ” The coffee shop owner states. “ _Any chance you can tell me how long you planned for this post-graduation trip? For some reason, the kid is being vague, so his little gang is driving me crazy with asking.”_

Takeshi looks back at his family. Chou is chattering happily, and Akira is nodding along. Morgana decided to give Akira’s shoulder a break and rides in Chou’s purse, his whiskers poking out enough to be part of the conversation. Chou and Takeshi still can’t understand him, but Morgana has impressively expressive body language, and they know to treat him with intelligence. There’s warmth and trust and growth beyond anything they could have imagined.

To say ‘it’s been a good year’ would be a ridiculous understatement.

“If we’re late, it’s because we don’t want to say goodbye yet,” Takeshi answers.

“ _Heh, they should know how that feels. Just letting you know the youngsters are getting impatient.”_

"We're going directly to Shibuya after this. He'll be there tomorrow afternoon.”

“ _I appreciate it. Take care._ ”

“Thank you.”

Takeshi hangs up. He joins his family.

And Akira is smiling.


End file.
